


For You

by Niitza



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niitza/pseuds/Niitza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cooper had always been quietly terrified of the day Blaine would fall in love. (AU from 3x14)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You

**Author's Note:**

> AU from 3x14. I began writing this fic when the first spoilers about Blaine's brother Cooper started to come out and as a consequence Cooper's character and the following events strongly diverge from canon.
> 
>  **Important warning:** The story is told from Cooper's PoV, who in this fic has a certain amount of character flaws and is quite decided to not like Kurt from the get go. As a consequence his opinion about Kurt as well as his interpretation of the events in season 2 and 3 (or rather of what he knows of these events) are strongly biased and somewhat irrational. These opinions in no way correspond to those of the author (I love Kurt as a character and am a Klainer all the way) and do not express a wish to character bash. Be aware going into that fic that a certain amount of it will contain negative and unjust criticism of Kurt's character and actions, though, due to the narration's PoV. If you don't wish to see it, please don't read the fic.
> 
> Crossposted from [my LJ](http://niitza.livejournal.com/10084.html)

 

 _"I love you right up to the moon," said Little Nutbrown Hare, and closed his eyes._  
"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far."  
Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves.  
He leaned over and kissed him good night.  
Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, "I love you right up to the moon - and back."

\- Sam McBratney, Anita Jeam, _Guess How Much I Love You_ -

 

Cooper had always been quietly terrified of the day Blaine would fall in love.

Oh, there were many things he could be afraid of when it came to Blaine, sure. Far too many things. An evening of shy dreams turned into the most horrid nightmare had shown him that.

But love...

People aren't wary of love - not instinctively, not until it's far too late and love itself has given them a good reason to be.

No, at first, spontaneously, everybody wants love. They can be nervous about it, or uncertain, or even a bit worried, but they always want it, dream about it, hope that they will never lose the one they have and that they will only get more of it in the future. Love isn't something you can ever be sated on. Love isn't something you can stop wanting even after it's hurt you, no matter how badly.

And Blaine... Blaine lived and breathed for love, from the first day he'd seized it with both hands and begun handing it around. He had so much of it to give. When he loved, he loved completely - his parents, his brother, and Cooper did everything he could to show him he loved him just as much, to give him just as much, if not more, in return.

But Cooper knew that one day their parent's clumsy, often hampered love and his own fierce adoration wouldn't be enough anymore. He knew that one day there would be someone else. Someone he didn't know, someone with intentions and affections he wouldn't be sure of, someone he couldn't trust.

It could be anyone.

And to him, the love Blaine would feel for that stranger was undoubtedly the most dangerous thing.

It didn't even have to be a twisted love, a horrible story that'd be nothing but cruel, that'd end and break Blaine's heart. No, it could look nothing but beautiful, ideal, peaceful. And yet simply be the slowest, surest, most quiet way of destroying him.

Because Blaine would always bend over backwards for the people he loved. For anyone, even. He always gave so much and asked for - _expected_ \- so little in return. He wore his heart on his sleeve and wouldn't ever think twice before he held out a piece of it to a stranger in need of a little bit of caring - and he barely felt it his heart was so big, he never thought that one day he could run out of affection. Other people came first.

And the people he loved came even before that.

He'd do anything for his loved ones. Cooper had seen it - how much Blaine had done, how long and hard he'd tried to be what their parents wanted, to be what his friends needed, how he'd apparently never minded giving up on so much, never minded that his efforts didn't get him anything in return, never minded that their parents didn't reached out, that his so-called friends weren't there for him when he ended up needing them the most.

And Cooper tried so, so hard to never ask for anything from Blaine - to love him unconditionally just like he was, to be there for him and help him, to do everything Blaine wanted or needed without Blaine even having to ask for it. Because Blaine deserved it. That and so much more.

And Cooper was afraid.

He was afraid of a day a stranger would take one piece of Blaine's golden heart, and then another, and another, like a magpie glutton for shiny things, and would take and take and take until there was nothing left.

He was afraid of a day Blaine would simply unhook his whole heart from his chest and give it all all at once to a stranger who wouldn't understand how precious it was.

Someone who would cut it open and squeeze it until it had given everything it could, to the last drop, before discarding the rest that'd be nothing more than dry peels and crushed pulp.

Or someone who would take it with a flattered smile, because it was a nice heart, coming with a nice, popular, quite handsome package, and _who would refuse that?_ But who would only like the facade, the surface, who would never really care about who Blaine really was, never love him, the real him - and who would lose interest too fast, leave that heart behind somewhere, careless and oblivious like the child forgetting an old toy for the shiny new one and never looking back.

Or someone who would do nothing but disdainfully glance down at it and not take it and turn away, knocking it over in the process and not even noticing it had fallen to the ground, not even noticing it had shattered in a million pieces, not even noticing they'd stomped all over it before disappearing.

Oh yes, Cooper was afraid. He knew his fears were a bit irrational too, he knew that he should, could trust Blaine more. Blaine wasn't stupid.

But he couldn't help it. Blaine wasn't stupid, but Cooper knew, knew so well, that love could make the cleverest of men do the most stupid things.

So he worried, quietly, ceaselessly, _guiltily_.

Because sometimes - sometimes he was almost relieved that that night at the Sadie Hawkins dance had happened. Now that it was in the past, now that Blaine had woken up and not woken up a stranger, now that Blaine had healed - somehow, on the long run, Cooper was slightly, awfully relieved.

Because Blaine was a little bit more guarded now, a little bit more aware of the world they lived in, a little bit more wary of other people. He'd stopped trusting anyone straightaway, stopped being so generous to everyone without distinction.

He'd need time to heal inside, to stand back up from the ground of that parking lot and move on. He'd need time to let go of the shield he'd built around himself, to stop hiding behind his Dalton polish, to let anyone who wasn't Cooper in once more.

And with a little bit of luck that wouldn't happen before a long long time - and by then he'd be older, he'd be an adult, he'd be smarter, less naive, less hotheaded and lightheaded, he'd be more cautious before he slowly started to consider committing to someone.

So Cooper was still afraid, terrified actually, but it was quiet, he could hide it, he could entrust Blaine to their parents and to Dalton for a couple of years and build his own life like Blaine wanted him to, even if it was far away. He could manage.

He could think, _Stop worrying, it's not for long, it's only until the finishes high school - and then Blaine will be here, Blaine will be in New York, Blaine will be with you and you'll make sure he's safe_.

He could think, _Everything is okay right now, nothing will change, nothing can change, not in Ohio, not in Dalton, not at home_.

He could think, _It's alright, nothing will happen,_ no one _will happen_.

But then Kurt Hummel entered the picture.

*

The first time Blaine talked about Kurt Cooper didn't register it as a threat - or as anything special as a matter of fact.

The first time it sounded like it was yet another boy Blaine had sympathized with, someone else he'd bumped into and stopped to help with no conscious decision from his part - like he'd stop to pick up a stray puppy he found huddled against a wall and shivering in the rain. It was an automatic reaction for him, to really look at people and notice when something wasn't right and reach out immediately.

So yeah, that Kurt boy was just another one on the long list of strangers Blaine would offer his help to. He wasn't the first, wouldn't be the last, neither the best nor the worse. Cooper hardly noticed that Blaine was just that tidbit more emotionally involved than he would usually be from the get go, and when he did he only chalked it up to the fact that that kid's situation was far more similar to what Blaine's had been not so long ago than any other before - Blaine could relate to it, it struck a deeper chord within him, of course it would matter to him more.

But then Blaine started to talk about Jeremiah too - about a college kid he'd met and with whom he'd gotten coffee once, then _twice_. Cooper listened to him gush and he was okay with it all, because Blaine was dreaming once more for the first time since... _since_ , and because Jeremiah wasn't a danger. He was far away, he was a dream, an unattainable college kid Blaine could admire from afar and innocently revel in pining after without ever knowing him, touching him. He was an ideal that couldn't really hurt Blaine because nothing would ever come out of that crush. It was okay, it was safe - it wasn't _real_.

Cooper almost felt disappointed that it ended so fast and so radically - as soon as Blaine took a step forward he accidentally popped the bubble and blew every single one of his illusions away. In the end he was hurt, yes, a bit, but it was mostly his pride, and it wasn't serious.

Cooper thought that things would return to normal then, that soon there would be someone else - another distant figure, another fiction character, another actor for Blaine to moon over without any kind of risk involved.

Instead he got a phone call and Blaine sounding lost and guilty and confused and panicked, almost afraid.

Instead he heard that Kurt - _Kurt_ , that kid Blaine had helped when he'd stumbled and who should've regained his footing and gone his own merry way already - Kurt had said that he liked Blaine.

Or no, more precisely: he'd said that he'd thought - hoped? - that he was the one Blaine liked.

And that was when the trouble began.

*

_It's okay. Don't worry. Don't worry that much._

_Blaine turned him down, right?_

_Nothing's changed. It's alright. He kept a cool head, he kept his ground, he didn't yield to what that boy wanted or what he asked for as soon as it was said, no matter how much he cares about him._

_"I thought the guy that you wanted to ask out on Valentine's Day was me." Who says that? Who's presumptuous enough to think-_

_Well, he can't think it anymore, can he? Blaine was pretty clear. Blaine did the right thing and thought of what was most important, what was safer. See, you can trust him, he won't be foolish and commit to the first boy who comes along and-_

_Oh, damn it all to hell, who are you kidding?_

_It's obvious, isn't it?_

_How much Blaine's been talking about that boy. The way he's been talking about that boy. The fact that the reason he turned him down wasn't because he doesn't like him - but because he likes him too much, because he doesn't trust himself, because he doesn't want to mess up their- their friendship or whatever their relationship is._

_Something important. Something precious. Something he can't afford to break and doesn't want to lose._

_Oh, Blaine might not be aware of it, of what it means, not now._

_But he will be, won't he? He'll realize it one day._

_Soon._

_And that boy - that 'Kurt' - already likes him back. Thinks he likes him back. Says he likes him back._

_(And what do you know about that boy, really?)_

_But it hasn't happened yet. It might not happen still - not now, not soon, not ever._

_So it's okay. Don't worry. Don't worry that much_.

*

"The way he sung, Cooper," Blaine whispered, quietly awestruck. "I wish you'd been there, then you'd understand..."

He trailed off, too overwhelmed by what he'd seen, what he'd heard, what had turned his heart upside down and left him lost and found, unsettled and so so certain.

And Cooper did understand. He understood plenty. He didn't need to have seen it or heard it - being witness to how strongly it had affected his brother was enough.

A hand had reached out in sorrow, a voice had sung in a mourning complaint, and they'd unknowingly brushed against Blaine's heart, turned its attention towards them and now that they'd both retreated back to where they belonged that curious, genuine heart was straining to see them, to hear them again.

It had just happened - it hadn't been planned, hadn't been conscious, so Cooper couldn't even blame the boy.

It was better than a vile, purposeful attempt at seduction.

It was better than Blaine questioning himself, forcing himself, trying to change what he was and date a girl because of some stupid thing their father had said about how absolute homosexuality doesn't exist, Blaine, love or attraction isn't a matter of gender as much as a matter of individuals you meet and let touch you, Blaine, of course you'll find a girl, of course you'll find the one that's right for you if you make the effort to simply _look_ , Blaine.

It was Blaine feeling something, and acting with what his heart dictated and not with what his head absurdly tried to reason.

It was better and so so much worse.

"Cooper I - I made a mistake, didn't I?" Blaine said, now sounding small and worried.

Cooper closed his eyes, holding the phone close to his ear, wishing he could hold his brother even closer to his heart when he softly answered: "That's the thing about being human, Blaine. We make mistakes. But when we realize it it's always time to try and repair them."

Blaine remained silent for a second and Cooper wasn't surprised by how afraid his voice came out when he asked: "But what if it's too late?"

 _Oh, believe me, Blaine, it's not too late_ , Cooper wanted to say. _It'll never be_.

_It's far too early._

"If he thinks it's already too late then he isn't worth it," he said instead.

"He is worth it," Blaine replied, calm and certain of that if not of anything else.

Cooper squeezed his eyes tighter shut and took a breath. When you love someone-

"Then he won't say it's too late," he murmured.

Letting go is the hardest thing.

*

Cooper almost wished the boy - Kurt, he had to get used to that faceless stranger having a name, to be real - would say that. That it was too late, that Blaine had missed his chance and wouldn't get a second one.

It would hurt, it would be a heartbreak now, but it would be a small one, Cooper would be here for Blaine to get over it and at least it would be over before it even began.

Cooper almost wished Kurt would say it was too late.

But he didn't.

*

And then Blaine sounded so _happy_ over the phone.

"I told him, I managed to tell him," he said.

"We got our first kiss," he said.

"Cooper, _Kurt_ 's my _boyfriend_ ," he said.

Not 'I got my first kiss' - or at least, the first one that mattered. Not 'I have a boyfriend'.

Because it wasn't about an abstract first kiss, that virtual milestone so many people wanted to reach and pass only so that it was over and done with. And it wasn't about some faceless, just for the sake of having one boyfriend, a title so many people gave because they liked the sound of it, often far more than they liked the person they bestowed it upon.

No, it was about Blaine, and it was about Kurt, and it was about what Blaine and Kurt did and were together.

It was about something that mattered.

It was about something real.

"It's great, Blaine," Cooper said, the smile in his voice just as wide and helpless as the one on his face.

"What, no 'I told you so'?" Blaine teased now that the pressure was gone, now that he hadn't been turned down, now that he could.

"Well, you say it so much better than me."

Blaine laughed, dizzy and delighted. Cooper listened to the sound, listened and felt his heart struggle and squeeze in his chest, torn between beating an elated rhythm to the happiness he felt for his brother and freezing in terror because of how vulnerable Blaine had just made himself, how much of himself he'd just put on the line for someone Cooper didn't know.

But Blaine trusted Kurt. And Cooper trusted Blaine, trusted him and let him and let go because he loved him, because that was what he was supposed to do.

After they'd hung up he sighed and sat for a long time, staring at the folders spread out on his desk without seeing them, feeling bewildered by how fast everything had happened.

Too fast.

And now it was real.

*

That's how it all began.

Blaine was over the moon.

So Cooper tried, he really tried - _don't worry. It's okay. He's okay. Listen to him, he's happy_.

It helped that Kurt sounded like a good kid - sounded, because Blaine was teasingly reluctant about showing pictures, arguing that none of them did his boyfriend justice and that he would prefer it if the first time Cooper saw him was in person.

Cooper laughed silently at Blaine's over-earnest, ideal vision of a meet-the-brother moment, secretly enjoying the fact that his opinion mattered, that Blaine wanted that encounter to be special - something it wouldn't be with their parents.

But yes, Kurt sounded nice, sensible, and actually well-suited for Blaine. Cooper listened as Blaine recounted a duet performed at Regionals like it was the most intimate, romantic thing ever. He listened as Blaine talked about countless conversations over coffee. He listened as Blaine smiled about time spent together watching a movie, going to a show at Kurt's former high school, cooking in the Hudson-Hummel kitchen. He listened as Blaine blushed over the mention of kisses that felt like they were the first every single time, of hands meeting and holding onto each other, of lazy cuddling while they listened to music. He listened to all these small stories of time simply spent together, being comfortable. Simply being Blaine and Kurt. They'd been good friends - best friends - before they took that step further, and they still were. Kurt didn't try to rush things, didn't push Blaine too far to fast.

Actually, it sounded like _Blaine_ was the one who had to slow down. But it wasn't surprising, really. It was how Blaine was. He dithered, he delayed, he hesitated, but once he'd made the decision to do something, he did it completely and all at once. There was no happy medium with him - every choice was a cliff he either turned away from or raced towards to take the plunge. He was either out of something like one is out of the water, or neck-deep in it, if not more.

Too bad he didn't always take the time to really test the waters or even glance at them before he jumped - and thus didn't always know if they'd be calm or agitated, welcoming or dangerous, if he'd be able to swim or simply be swept away by the current with no control whatsoever.

Fortunately, Kurt seemed to have some inkling of navigation and managed to steer them quietly in a direction that looked about right.

So Cooper tried. He felt - glad for his brother, he hoped that it'd keep on being that good, that it'd last. He hoped for it probably just as much as Blaine did, if not more.

And he didn't think, tried not to think, _Don't delude yourself. Who are you kidding? Of course it won't last. It never does. Of course it'll break. It always does. Of course Kurt will get up and leave one day, soon. They always do._

_(And why shouldn't they?)_

He didn't think that, ignored that persistent voice at the back of his head - so that when Blaine called him with doubts and fears, so very afraid, so very sure he was going to screw this up, that something would go wrong, that it was too good to be true or to remain true, he could say:

"Calm down. Stop thinking that. You're doing great. You're great, Kurt's so lucky to have you, and I'm sure he knows it. And if you keep it that way - if you keep talking to each other like you do, if you never stop thinking of this as something precious, something that's not granted, something to cherish and be careful of - then there is no reason for it not to work. No reason, none at all. So trust yourself, trust the both of you."

 _Because I do, even if it's one of the hardest things I ever did_.

*

Blaine's sniffles were quiet and muffled but Cooper heard them anyway.

Some days he _loathed_ the fact that almost all of his contacts with his brother were over the phone, with more than 500 miles separating them.

"Did he like the song?" he asked, feeling at a loss for what to say, for a way to make it better.

Blaine's first reaction was a watery laugh, probably remembering the last time Cooper had asked that very same question after a mortifying moment that was now past and had turned into material for jokes. And Cooper knew how good it was for Blaine to have a boy he could sing to, who wouldn't find that lame or appalling, who would like it.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, he did. I think he did."

He sniffled again and Cooper heard the rustle of his blazer's stiff fabric. He could picture him, huddled somewhere and squeezing his arms around himself, and God how he wished he was there beside him to hug him and comfort him.

Feeling restless he stood up from his desk and walked to his office window, watching the city spreading itself in front of him and reminding him of how far away he was - somewhere else, in a different city, in a whole different universe it seemed.

"It's just- It's stupid, right?" Blaine spoke again, his voice trembling and full of self-depreciation. "I shouldn't-"

"No," Cooper interrupted him at once, soft but firm. "It's not stupid. Blaine. It's not. It never is."

"It's just," Blaine went on, and Cooper wondered if he'd even heard him. "He's _gone_. I know why he left, why he had to - he had to go back, his parents can't afford Dalton and all his friends are... And he's safe now, now that Karofsky's backed off."

Cooper knew all that - Blaine had explained it to him and now he was rattling off these explanations like he was reading them from a textbook. And it was because of all these facts Cooper was aware of that he couldn't hold it against Kurt to transfer back and leave Blaine behind. He couldn't ask of Kurt, of anyone to put one person in front of everything else, to ignore reason or logistics, even if that person was Blaine - even if he wanted to. He couldn't resent Kurt for choosing to go back - like Blaine said, there were monetary issues and practical reasons to take into account. McKinley was a public school, McKinley was closer to Kurt's home, McKinley was where his friends were.

But that was it. His friends. Other people. Other things that came first.

Things that for Blaine, for rash, reckless Blaine, would only come second.

"I'm happy for him," Blaine said, and _meant_ it. "I really am. It's what he wants, what he needs, Dalton wasn't right for him and- I understand. And it's not like it's over. So why-"

 _Because Kurt has slowly been becoming the world to you, because you never do things halfway. When you give, you give everything; when you love, you love absolutely_.

It was always like that, for Blaine - it had always been like that with his friends, so Cooper hadn't ever doubted for a second that it wouldn't be any different with his boyfriend, hadn't doubted for a second that it would be even worse. Blaine put them first, before himself and before any consideration about his well-being or about what would be reasonable, feasible. He reorganized his life for them, around them, and everything else got just pushed into the background, deemed insignificant in the light of his friends having their place front and center, of making his friends happy.

The problem was? His friends didn't do the same.

And his boyfriend?

"Hey, hey," Cooper said, trying to stave off his brother's breakdown. "Blaine. You're hurting. It's normal. Things have changed, you won't be able to compare your uniform-wearing techniques or sing together all day long in the corridors but-" Cooper smiled fondly when he heard Blaine choke out a small, faltering laugh. "Like you said. It isn't over. There are texts and phone calls. There is the Lima Bean. There are hours after school and weekends, and the distance between Lima and Westerville? It's really not that much," he went on, trying to make his voice lighter. "Plus, you have more than enough experience with dealing with long-distance relationships. Have you seen the both of us? We _rock_ at it."

"Yes we do," Blaine agreed. And then, very lowly, very softly, very sincerely: "I miss you though."

Cooper smiled and swallowed around the painful knot in his throat. "I miss you too," he whispered back. "I miss you very much." He let a couple of seconds slip by before he added: "You're going to be alright, Blaine. You'll just need a little bit of time to readjust."

"I know," Blaine replied.

He sounded calmer now, relieved and nearly sure.

"It's just- It's not easy."

"It never is," Cooper hummed in answer. "But you'll get through it. I trust you."

And yet he couldn't help but feel like something had broken, like a bubble had been popped somehow - like that sweet delusional period of time where everything was perfect had ended, and all too soon.

He couldn't help but feel like Kurt had let him - let them - down somehow.

But that was to be expected, wasn't it?

"I think I'm okay to drive now," Blaine said after a while, allowing himself a last sniffle before he blew his nose. "I better go or I'm _really_ going to be late for class. Talk to you later?"

Cooper bit back a sigh. "Always."

*

And then there was prom.

"Kurt asked me," Blaine said, voice carefully not trembling. "I said yes."

So Blaine was _going_ to prom.

Blaine was going to a dance. With a boy. At a school said boy had been chased out of by bullies and bruises and threats and-

And Blaine was terrified.

But he was going anyway. He wanted to go anyway.

Because he wanted to face his demons, Cooper knew. He knew how it weighted down on his brother to have left his school, how he felt like he'd only run away - no matter the reasons why he'd left, no matter how little he could've done once they'd put him in the hospital for weeks.

_(Don't think it might've been forever.)_

But Cooper also knew that another reason, another important reason, was that Kurt had asked him to. And it was obvious by now that if Kurt asked for something, for anything, then Blaine wouldn't hesitate for more than a second before he gave it to him.

When he heard the words ( _"I said yes."_ ) Cooper froze and for a second he could neither speak nor even think clearly. He could just feel that icy hand reach out and grip his entrails, ready to rip them out and tear them to shreds. He braced his left arm, the one not holding the phone, around his stomach as if it could ward off the feeling, ward off the phantom pain echoing what he'd felt a couple of years ago when he'd received that phone call, when he'd seen Blaine in that hospital bed, when he'd heard the doctors' uncertain diagnostic.

He breathed out slowly.

He didn't say, _Don't. Please, please don't._

He didn't say, _You shouldn't. You know that, Blaine, you really shouldn't_.

He didn't even say, _Are you sure? Are you really, really sure?_

Because Blaine wanted - needed? - to do this. For himself - and for Kurt, yes, but most of all for himself. He needed to prove it to himself that he could do it, that he could stand up, that he could face this.

So all Cooper said, voice faltering and slow, was: "Okay."

Blaine knew him too well though and it didn't came as a surprise that he understood and heard all the reservations and fears Cooper refused to give voice to. Before Cooper knew it his little brother was the one trying to reassure him.

"There will be people specifically watching over us," he explained. Cooper didn't interrupt him - he knew saying these things out loud would help Blaine too. "And we won't be alone, we'll have our friends with us, all the members of New Directions."

Because he and his friend had been alone and unsupervised that night.

"I'll have my cell on me the whole time."

Because he'd forgotten it in his bag in the backseat of his friend's father's car that night.

"I'll call you as soon as we're back at Kurt's."

Because Cooper hadn't known before the following _morning_ about that night.

Cooper wanted to laugh at how pathetic he was, needing to be reassured by his little brother whereas Blaine was the one who'd be out there, he was the one who'd be in danger. He always had been.

Instead he closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay," he repeated.

What else could he say? If he started talking more he knew the words would just spew out of him before he could hold them back and if there was something Blaine really didn't need right now, it was to hear his older brother's worries, most of which had nothing to do with rationality. No matter how strong the love that caused them was.

Really, the best Cooper could do for Blaine right now was to shut up.

He hated that.

And he hated Kurt Hummel just a little bit for putting him - putting them both - through that.

*

The night of the dance was predictably one of the worst of Cooper's life (not the worst, he spent the whole night hoping with all his being it wouldn't be the worst).

Blaine sent him a text with a picture attached - a snapshot of himself right before they left, taken in the hallway of Kurt's parents' house. Black tux, simple cut, very discreet apart from the lovely, pale pink flowers pinned to his lapel. Brave smile, teetering between excited and anxious. No trace of Kurt, of course, because Blaine was still pretty serious about the whole meet-the-boyfriend/brother thing.

Cooper wondered for a second if Kurt had gotten to see pictures of him.

Then he typed back: _Well, don't you look handsome_.

(What he wanted to type was, _Great tux, great pic, it's enough, right? You've done your part for the evening, so now you can go home, right?_ but he didn't.)

 _I know_ , Blaine replied. _Got to go now. Talk to you later?_

 _Always_ , Cooper sent back.

Then he cradled the phone in his hands and pressed them against his lips. _Please please please be alright_ , he thought, eyes squeezed shut.

Too bad he'd stopped believing in God quite a while back, the last shreds of his faith ebbing away to the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

And then he had a whole evening to get through, several hours to make pass that felt like an eternity. Then he had to wait for Blaine to call.

He tried to handle it like an ordinary evening.

He fixed himself a quick dinner he had to force himself to swallow - half of it ended back in a box in the fridge.

Then he went back to his living-room, switched the halogen lamp on so that its creamy light spread throughout the room and settled himself at his desk. There he picked up the last file Mr. Millson, his supervisor, had entrusted him with - a big case, and although he wouldn't be alone on it and was reaching the end of his internship Cooper sometimes worried about how much the man seemed ready to put on his shoulders. Sure, he'd done a good job until now and the firm he was interning at was more than ready to offer him a real contract come the end of his trial period. Still.

He wanted to do well on this one too - and yet he rapidly found out that he couldn't focus. He would start reading a sentence but then the words would blur and his mind would turn right back to something else, to another place and another person and the fact that he didn't know what was happening. A soft crunch would make him suddenly realize that he'd just bitten through his thumbnail - a nervous habit he thought he'd managed to get rid off of. He would shake himself, shake his head and force his attention back to the paper in front of him.

And everything would start again.

By the seventh attempt at beginning the second paragraph he gave up and took off his thin framed glasses to rub at his eyes. He stood up with a sigh, checked his cell phone only to be informed that he had no new messages and that far less time had gone past than he would've hoped.

He wandered aimlessly through his flat, which felt huge and empty all at once, its silence bearing down on him. He decided to watch a movie. He chose one of his favorites, started it and sat down on the couch.

He gave up on it after less than half an hour. He was sure he'd gotten more glimpses of the red digits of the oven clock he could see from his seat through the kitchen doorway than of the movie itself. That, and he kept glancing at his phone, fearing it would ring not a second later. Fearing it wouldn't ring at all. Then the wail of a siren rushing down his street made him start and realize he'd missed the last five minutes or so.

No movie, then.

He put it away and found himself at a loss for what to do.

Fortunately their mother had always been very good at keeping herself excessively busy to avoid thinking about anything - so good that it would've been impossible for her sons not to involuntarily pick up part of that ability from her.

Cooper decided to do a little bit of cleaning around his flat.

By the time he was finished with it he was sure his bathroom had never been so sparkling since he'd moved in, especially not his shower.

He didn't dare hoover the place for fear the ringing of his phone would be drowned under the noise and resolved to use a broom. It took longer anyway.

He was busy viciously scrubbing at his kitchen sink when his phone finally, finally rang. It took him by surprise, actually, so much that his hand slipped and scraped against the tap, two of his knuckles splitting open since he hadn't bothered to use protective gloves. Cursing and not bothering to rinse his hands he rushed to the table to pick up his cell with his left hand, the other coming automatically up to his mouth.

He realized sucking at the wounds wasn't the best of ideas a second too late and by then his lips and tongue were filled with the strong sting of detergent. He spat to the side, wiped his mouth with his forearm and finally managed to get his phone open to take the call.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound relaxed, almost casual.

For the fraction of a second he was seized by dread at the thought that it might not be his brother at the other end of the line and that-

"Hey," Blaine answered, voice low and oh so tired.

"So?" Cooper asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

"So we're back. Safe. We're okay."

Cooper bit his lip before he could think better of it and realized he might have to scrub his mouth or something to get rid of that taste. "You don't sound that okay," he said cautiously, not wanting his gnawing worry to come out too strong.

"I-" Blaine began, then sighed. "It was just stupid to hope it'd be a perfect night, was it?"

Cooper knew that tone - dim, defeated, disillusioned, so unfit for his brother's voice.

"Blaine..."

"Don't worry," his brother added at once. "It's not- We're okay. It's just, things happened and..." He paused and then there was a smile, in his voice, in spite of everything, a quiet, awed smile when he whispered: "Kurt was amazing."

Cooper heard that voice, saw that smile he knew to be so rare, and swallowed. The way Blaine was talking - it wasn't his little brother gushing over a crush, it wasn't his little brother fondly mentioning a boy he liked. No, it was Blaine quietly, simply talking about the young man he loved. Because Blaine was in love, there was no doubt about it when he talked like that, he was completely, naively, crazily in love. That he was aware of it himself or not didn't matter at that point. He was, for the first time he was, and Cooper didn't even know that young man, that Kurt who was the first Blaine's heart had been offered to so entirely.

"I'm sure he was," he said, holding his voice tight so it couldn't tremble. "What happened?"

Blaine sighed once more, weary but with an almost imperceptible edge of anger. "It's complicated. I'll tell you everything, I'll explain, I promise, but- Kurt. I think he needs me. So can we... Later?"

Cooper felt conflicted feelings churn in his stomach - a bone-deep relief lined with icy remnants of fear, sparks of irritation directed at everything for daring to hurt his brother, the desperate need to hear Blaine's voice a little while longer until he felt it in himself that Blaine was there, that he was safe, the soft wish to do everything Blaine asked for, to avoid adding anything to the pile of things weighing down on him... and yes, somewhere underneath it all, no matter how hard the wanted to deny it, a soft simmering of jealousy.

He hoped Kurt Hummel was very happy and grateful he got to cradle Blaine in his arms tonight, to have him there, safe, with him.

"Of course," Cooper whispered helplessly, because what could he do? "We'll talk later. And, Blaine?" he called, feeling his brother already drifting away from him, ready to hang up. "Thanks for calling me."

Blaine's answer was distracted, barely there, and then he was gone.

Cooper remained standing in his kitchen for a long time, hands slick with detergent and phone pressed against his ear, hearing nothing but the dial tone, steady and low and endless.

 _Yes, Kurt needs you_ , he thought. _But you need him too, obviously, you need someone - and is he here for you right now?_

*

"It wasn't- It just slipped out," Blaine recounted, voice close to the phone like he was telling a secret. "I didn't mean to, I hadn't even thought about it but then it was there and so... so big and obvious. And I just... said it."

 _Of course you did_ , Cooper didn't say, staring at his ceiling from where he was lying on the couch, willing away the crick that had developed in his nape from hours of poring over cases with Mr. Millson. Of course Blaine had let the words 'slip out' - stupid, honest, genuine Blaine who never thought about hiding anything to anyone. It probably had been written all over his face even before he put it into words.

Such heavy, meaningful, dangerous words.

"Cooper," he went on in a breathless, incredulous, delighted whisper. "Cooper, he told me he loves me too."

Cooper closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to ward off the creeping headache he felt tightening his brow.

"Of course he did, Blaine," he mumbled. "Why wouldn't he?"

It was a clear clue as to what Blaine's current state of mind was that he didn't raise any objection to that statement.

"Cooper," Blaine choked, almost gasped, and left it at that because he didn't have the words to express what he felt.

He believed it - Kurt had said he loved him and Blaine believed it. And Cooper had to trust him to have read Kurt correctly, to not have fallen into wishful thinking, into fooling himself. He had to trust Blaine knew Kurt well enough to have reasons to believe he meant what he'd said, that he hadn't said it back out of some misplaced sense of obligation, or because he was one of those people who threw the word around without realizing how important it could be, how much it could contain in other people's eyes.

Cooper hoped that Blaine had that at least - Kurt meaning it.

Because he knew teenagers - he knew how they worked and felt and thought. He'd been one himself. He knew how passionate they could be about anything - and how fickle they were. He knew how strongly they could feel for someone, feel like they might choke on it, burst with it, how they would think at once that this was it, this was love, and profess it with all the burning honesty of their young heart, believe that they'd found it, already, at last - when they hadn't. When it wasn't love. When it would have disappeared one day, replaced by another surge of passion, and they would barely remember it, remember how it felt.

(Cooper knew what love was. He knew how deep it goes, down to your bones, he knew how its steel stakes sink into your marrow, shape you anew and keep you upright and bring you to agony sometimes, and stay there no matter how hard you try to pry them out, no matter how long you wish them away. He knew how it changes you, for better or for worse but always forever. He knew that love never really leaves, never disappears. Oh yes, he _knew_.)

And he knew that what Blaine felt was love. Yes, Blaine was a teenager too - but he'd always had that maturity of feelings, a maturity even Cooper hadn't had when he'd been his age. Whether it was due to having a brother so much older than himself but no less close or to what life had dealt him from the beginning onwards, he'd always been serious and steadfast about what he liked, whom he liked, whom he loved. He'd always been careful and almost too honest about it.

And Cooper knew his brother. So he knew it was love Blaine felt, real love, there was no doubt about it. A love that would only take root and grow, spread out its roots and branches throughout Blaine's being, drinking him in but bearing leaves and flowers and fruits - and it would keep growing, taller and wider and deeper, unless something terrible happened to fell it, let it crash to the ground and burn (and even then...).

Yes Blaine was in love, and he'd said it.

And Kurt had said it back.

But how could Cooper know that Kurt was in love the way Blaine was?

*

People in love make plans. People in love make promises.

And the years-old habits and tacit workings? Just got inadvertently jostled and pushed to the side with barely an afterthought.

Summer for Cooper had always been a time he looked forward to, even more since he'd begun college. It'd be the time he went back home to spend two to three months being silly and young with his little brother, falling back into that comfortable symbiosis that was so strange to other people's eyes, where they barely needed half a sentence, sometimes hardly a word, to understand each other and laugh or decide on something.

And then, once Cooper had come of age and started law school, once their father had suddenly decided it was time for Cooper to have his own place - even if it had been tiny and dark and badly positioned - it'd been even better. Cooper had whisked Blaine away from Ohio and into Boston, had opened his eyes and shown him the campus and the city and the beach not so far away, had shown him how different from Westerville and its narrow-minded people the world could be.

Then there had been graduation, and a paid internship while he prepared for his bar examination, and moving to New York, to a bigger, better flat, and he'd been looking forward to share all of it with Blaine.

But Blaine wasn't ready to spend all summer with his older brother this year. For the first time since middle school he actually intended to - _wanted_ to - stay in Ohio for some time. To see Kurt. To be with Kurt.

And Blaine wasn't ready to see New York, not yet, not even with Cooper. Because he'd promised to Kurt, with Kurt, that they would go there together next time. So Blaine wanted to wait.

Cooper was very tempted to point out that Mr. Kurt Hummel hadn't waited before he'd flown off there and had the time of his life, apparently. But he bit his tongue, and went about compromising and planning.

The thing was, he couldn't leave New York and his internship for long - his supervisor might be understanding and cooperative, but Cooper didn't want to take advantage of it. He was dedicated to his job, was honored by the trust that had been bestowed upon him until now with a series of challenging cases he'd been allowed to take part in, and he would keep it that way.

In the end they settled on a road trip of two and a half weeks in August, after Cooper's examination was past and done with and Blaine had had an ample amount of time to spend with his boyfriend.

They took Cooper's old, rusty but sturdy car and set out for the Rocky Mountains, an aim that was probably a bit too far away and ambitious to reach and make the most of with the short span of time they had, but Cooper decided they wouldn't care and Blaine, from behind a pair of bright pink framed sunglasses, didn't object.

It felt like leaving everything and everyone behind, it felt like it was only the two of them once more, alone against the world.

Except it wasn't.

Blaine had always taken his cell with him during their summers together, but it had only been just in case. Mostly the device would spent the whole stay lying forgotten at the bottom of Blaine's bag - because no one really called or texted. It had been a bit different once he'd transferred to Dalton, he received news from his friends - the Warblers - and answered, but all in all it'd been really tame and almost unnoticeable. But this year...

This year was another matter altogether.

Kurt, Cooper discovered, was one of these phone monsters - and had apparently infected Blaine with his plight.

It became obvious from the second day onwards that they had developed two habits: having at least one phone call a day and, when talking wasn't possible, holding a whole conversation through texts.

And boy did they text fast.

Cooper couldn't help but feel slightly irritated - because damn it, Kurt had had his brother the whole year long, couldn't he give him some space for a couple of weeks? Couldn't he just understand and respect that Blaine was with his older brother and leave them the hell alone?

Apparently, no.

Cooper would probably have nastily commented on it if he hadn't seen the way Blaine's whole face lit up and grew animated as soon as his phone chirped with a new message and he answered. Small joys - and who was Cooper to refuse him them?

So he adapted. When Blaine's phone rang in the evening once they'd settled in the motel room they'd just booked Cooper stood up from his bed and went to take a long, thorough shower so that Blaine wouldn't protest once he came back and announced it was time to go down for dinner.

He was pretty sure that Blaine was grateful, interpreting his leaving the room as a way to leave him and his boyfriend a little bit of privacy. Cooper just didn't see any other solution and didn't want to hear them talking to each other - he had on the first day, and while it had been great to see his brother so relaxed and free, rid of all these restraints he'd harnessed himself with over the years, it had hurt, too, to see for himself that he wasn't the only one Blaine could be entirely himself and silly with anymore.

It was more difficult during the day, when Cooper was driving and Blaine's phone started to buzz - and kept buzzing with reply over reply while Blaine smiled down at his screen and typed away. It wasn't that Kurt's text were interrupting any heart-to-heart Cooper and Blaine might've been having - actually Blaine never started a text exchange if the first one arrived while he and Cooper were really talking. But it broke something nonetheless - these companionable silences that filled the car for long stretches of road, where no word, no movement was needed for them to be and feel together, Blaine and Cooper, as simple at that. When a text arrived during one of these moments and Blaine began answering because he didn't feel like he was doing anything, suddenly he wasn't here anymore but there, not with Cooper but with Kurt, and Cooper was left alone in the driver's seat, trying not to grit his teeth and not to feel like something had broken and turned the small space between the seats into a widening, yawning gap.

So Cooper preferred it when Blaine was the one in the driver seat - when a text came in and all Blaine could do was glance in the rearview mirror at his phone lying on the backseat. He never asked Cooper to fetch the phone for him and read the text to him.

Cooper was lucky his brother was such a private person, he guessed.

*

"You know how my phone plan allows me free texting and one unlimited number?" Blaine asked once.

"Mh?" Cooper replied vaguely, leaning back in his seat with his sunglasses hiked up on his nose, taking in the breeze wafting through his window while he gently roasted in the sun streaming into his side of the car.

For all his apparent aloofness he'd noticed the numerous glances Blaine had thrown at his phone since it'd chirped last and the way he'd begun biting his lips, gathering his courage before he spoke.

"And that number is yours," Blaine laboriously went on, already sounding... apologetic?

Oh. Suddenly Cooper knew where this was going.

"I've been thinking-"

"Wow, would you look at that?" he interrupted at once. "I've been thinking too. I know that not many human beings are gifted with that ability but I'm pretty sure we can consider ourselves among the happy few. Cheers," he said, lowering his shades to throw Blaine a look.

His brother's reaction was a jerky, hesitant laugh.

"So I used my incredible reflexion skills," he went on, settling back in his seat and interlacing his hands on his stomach. "And realized that I hadn't gotten you anything to celebrate the end of your sad celibacy. And since I think I know what you think, well. I'd say it's time for your mobile plan to get an upgrade. To match your change of status. I'd be paying for it, of course - come the end of the year I'll have a cute contract waiting for me and soon I'll be a rich man."

Cooper's contract would only be up for signing if he'd actually passed his bar examination, but he wasn't worried about that. One of the rare, small perks of being an Anderson and trusting in your abilities.

"Coop'," Blaine began, fondly shaking his head. No other word was needed for the conversation to go on - soon enough Blaine's reluctant but tempted silence gave in in front of Cooper's stubborn, unwavering one, the sure sign that he wouldn't be swayed so Blaine had better not even try.

So in the end Blaine caved and sighed and smiled. "Thank you."

Cooper grinned and closed his eyes against the glare of the sun, so bright it blinded him even through his shades.

"You're welcome."

There were many reasons why he'd just done that, the most important of which being that he never wanted Blaine to hesitate before he called - or worse, to choose not to call at all - because of stupid financial considerations. If his brother needed or wanted to talk to him, then Cooper would do anything so that nothing stood in his way. So that he was always available.

That, and there was just no way he was going to let Kurt Hummel supplant him by stealing his spot as number one on speed dial.

*

They reached the mountains eventually - even though by then they barely had the time to see anything before they had to start thinking about turning back.

They drove along them southwards for as long as they could. Then, on the morning they were to turn back East they stood up while it was still dark outside. The temperature was mild, the blue of the sky already losing its deep sombre hue. They took a road that rode up the mountain, Blaine clutching at his door in the sharp bends because such turns always made him queasy that early in the morning.

They drove as high as the road and the state of their car allowed - then Cooper parked and they stepped out, stretching and then settling on the hood, contemplating the wide plains stretched out at their feet and which with every passing second appeared clearer and clearer, colors slowly seeping into them as the light grew and grew.

Blaine had brought his feet up in front of him on the hood and was circling his knees with his arms, chin propped up on them.

"I've been thinking about transferring schools," he whispered after a while, so low Cooper only heard it thanks to the eerie calm before daybreak, when even the early birds grew silent in expectation of the first rays of the sun.

From where he had settled, leaning back on his elbows beside him, Cooper glanced at his brother, at his back, slightly hunched over like he was waiting to be reprimanded.

But Cooper wasn't Blaine's father - wasn't _their_ father - and he almost frowned at his brother reacting as if he was, as if he might clearly disapprove.

He did. Of course he did, of course he didn't want Blaine to leave Dalton and its safe corridors. But he wouldn't _say_ it - because it was Blaine's choice, because Blaine wasn't stupid or thoughtless, not on such matters, and Cooper trusted he had his own reasons for considering that change.

He wouldn't tell him what to do or what not to do, not now, not ever. It wasn't his place, no matter how hard he wished it was sometimes. He'd give advice if Blaine really asked for it - but mostly he would only make sure Blaine really thought about it before he acted.

So he murmured: "As long as you do it for the right reasons."

Blaine was silent after that, biting his lips and staring straight ahead like he was afraid of what he might see if he looked at his brother.

Cooper watched him for a minute, curled up even smaller than he already was, then sighed.

"Come here," he mumbled. He straightened up and threw an arm around Blaine, rubbing at his shoulder when his brother let a slow, shuddering breath out.

And they watched in silence as the sun split the horizon open, and rose.

*

Blaine did transfer to McKinley High in the end.

And yes, it did come as a surprise.

Cooper had been under the impression that Blaine had made his final decision. He'd been there as Blaine deliberated over the phone, balanced the pros and cons - the friends who had helped him stand back up versus the boyfriend who made him smile so wide, his comfortable safety versus the opportunity to confront and overcome his past once and for all, an education of average quality versus the absence of that incredibly steep tuition, and so forth - and he'd been there when Blaine had settled for staying at Dalton.

And then suddenly he'd changed his mind and changed school before Cooper could blink.

Cooper was quietly angry at his parents for not even bothering to call him to _talk_ about it before they let that happen - but then, being quietly angry at them was more or less a constant in their relationship. If you could call what they had that.

And Cooper had little to no doubt about what - or rather _who_ \- had turned Blaine's mind around.

He knew Blaine had other reasons for being tempted to go back into public education, to transfer to that school in particular. And he knew that in the end he'd probably done it for himself - for all the reasons he'd listed above and because, well. Blaine was of a needy nature, especially towards the people he loved. He needed to be close to them, to only have to glance up and around to meet their eyes, to barely have to reach out a hand to touch them, to connect, to feel they were real. Cooper was aware that his being so far away was hard on Blaine - hell, it was hard on him too - and it really didn't come as a surprise that his brother would jump on the occasion to have someone at his side for every single second of every single day. That he'd find it unbearable to be parted from them.

Especially if that person was his first boyfriend, his first love.

Yet Cooper couldn't help but wonder, but suspect, that Kurt had been the one to first come up with the suggestion, to ask for Blaine to join him, and most of all to bring it back up for discussion even after Blaine's decision had been made.

And he was quietly angry about that too because he himself didn't _do_ that. He was very careful not to do that, refrained from doing that. He knew how easily influenced Blaine was, knew how much sway he had on him as his older brother, his beloved and trusted older brother, and he made sure never to take advantage of that.

But now that Kurt boy had that sway too. Every single person Blaine knew had, he always valued other people's opinion over his own, and the opinion of his loved ones even more. So Cooper did everything he could to step back, to make sure Blaine followed no one's opinion but his own as often as possible, to never question a decision Blaine had made.

But it appeared that _Kurt_ wasn't nearly as cautious or respectful as Cooper on that matter. And that he didn't hesitate before he made use of his influence.

Cooper wondered if he was aware of how strong it was or could be, or not.

It might look like it wasn't anything serious, really. Kurt's presence and request had just been that last little push needed to tip the scales, nothing more. It wasn't like it had been the only reason, or even the main one (Cooper hoped), for Blaine to choose to transfer. And it wasn't like Blaine had just given up on a dream or a career path or something he really wanted and needed. It was just high school. He could still allow himself such grand gestures, he was young enough, the stakes weren't that high yet - hell, it was a good thing he chose to make the most of it, actually. There had been so few rash but heartfelt decisions in his life up until now.

But Cooper was unsettled. Because it was a first.

And something was telling him it wouldn't be a last.

*

Blaine's audition for a role in the school production of _West Side Story_ was to take place the following day and he was very obviously nervous.

"-was rereading Bernardo's part and I noticed Officer Krupke has a couple of great scenes too," he rambled. "I should've put it on my audition form too, I hope it won't-"

"Wait," Cooper interrupted, frowning. "Weren't you auditioning for the role of Tony?"

He was pretty sure it's what Blaine had intended when he'd sung _Something's Coming_ and _Maria_ to him and asked which one he thought was best ( _Something's Coming_ , because hearing Blaine sing that way about a girl was entirely too disturbing for Cooper to cope).

"Ah, yes, at first, but-" Blaine stammered. "You know, I'm a junior and it's the lead, which is pretty big and. And it'd be more suited for a senior. Actually. Like Kurt. That's how it works."

Oh.

"Kurt auditioned for Tony."

Kurt's audition had taken place today and Cooper hadn't thought to ask which role he was aiming for.

"He'll be a great Tony," Blaine rushed to say at once, sounding so honestly excited that it made Cooper's heart squeeze. "I _know_ it, and it'll look even greater on his application form - did I tell you he wants to go to NYADA?"

"I might've heard something along those lines from you, yes," Cooper replied, voice slightly strangled. He only listened distractedly as Blaine went on about his boyfriend's projects for the following year, mind whirling with jumbled thoughts.

Blaine had wanted to audition for Tony, he knew that. He couldn't doubt it when he'd heard and seen how much Blaine had applied himself to preparing these two songs.

But he'd stepped back. Just like that. Because Kurt wanted the role of Tony too. Because it was obvious Blaine had a real shot at getting the role - and Cooper didn't know how talented that Kurt was but he didn't doubt for a second Blaine would've been serious competition for it.

But he wouldn't be. He wouldn't even _try_.

Had Kurt been the one to suggest Blaine gave up? Had he made Blaine understand that him getting the role in his stead would be some sort of deal-breaker, would make things awkward and strained? Or worse, had he not even needed to say anything before Blaine made that decision all on his own, rushed to put everything right even before it started going wrong?

Cooper bit his lips as Blaine kept chattering away, not noticing his silence - or perhaps noticing it clearly, actually. Perhaps he knew exactly why it was there, what Cooper was thinking, and he didn't stop talking on purpose just to make sure Cooper wouldn't say anything, wouldn't get the occasion to object with something Blaine didn't want to hear.

He probably felt how much Cooper wanted to interrupt him, put his foot down and stop this, right here, right now.

( _Blaine, Blaine, don't do that_ , he wanted to whine.

 _Don't start and confine yourself, undermine yourself,_ suppress _yourself, not that way, not for someone else_ , he wanted to advise.

 _If he truly loves you he shouldn't let you do that_ , he wanted to growl.)

But he didn't, he couldn't ( _It's his decision, his decision, his decision_ , he chanted in his mind). He refrained and kept listening and casually responding and pretty much ignoring what they were both leaving unsaid.

It was only once their phone call had ended and Cooper was left with nothing but silence that he allowed himself to sigh, deep and weary, and to whisper:

"Thing is, Blaine. Your Tony wouldn't be _great_ \- he would be amazing."

*

That conversation made Cooper aware of another problem he hadn't thought about until now.

Blaine and Kurt were the same age.

But for reasons Cooper didn't want to think about, never wanted to think about and always pushed to the back of his mind, hands balling into trembling fists with the effort, Blaine was a year behind. Blaine had lost a year.

So Kurt was a senior. And Blaine was a junior.

And Kurt was planning to leave for New York at the end of the year, determined to leave Ohio behind no matter what.

Cooper could understand that - he himself hadn't lingered there as soon as he'd gotten the opportunity to leave.

(But what had happened to their promise that the next time one of them would go to New York the other would be right there beside him, eh? Where was it?)

His only regret when Cooper had left, the only thing still keeping him connected to that state, still holding him back, still _bringing_ him back more often than not, was Blaine.

He would never leave Blaine behind. Not entirely.

But Kurt - would he?

*

Blaine got the part of Tony in the end, even though he hadn't asked for it. Because he was that good.

He got the part and a bunch of flowers and a speech that made him melt inside.

Cooper smiled when Blaine told him about it - and wondered how much of it Kurt had meant, and how much of it had been nothing but a lucky, careful face-saving in front of decisions he couldn't change this time.

*

Blaine didn't call after the performance.

Blaine, who had thanked him for his encouragement text right before and had replied he would call right after, Blaine didn't call.

And he didn't answer when Cooper tried to.

Which left Cooper spending the whole night trying not to be sick with worry.

He tried to rationalize it, of course. Blaine had told him about the party one of their directors, the student one, Artie if he remembered well, was throwing at a restaurant afterwards. And with the character of Tony only slowly slipping out of him afterwards, and the rush of things, and the performance high, and the underlying fatigue, and his friends dragging him along, and the dizzying noise, and the cheerful mood, it wouldn't be surprising if calling his brother had slipped Blaine's mind. It could even be more simple, more stupid than that - like Blaine's phone had died or he'd put it down on his dresser after Cooper texted and forgotten it there. It wouldn't be the first time.

These reasons were the most probable ones. A silence of one evening didn't necessarily mean something serious, something bad, Cooper knew that.

Unfortunately Blaine had always been known to be the optimistic one.

While Cooper was the one gifted with the exceedingly fertile, morbid imagination.

( _Something's wrong._

_What could've gone wrong?_

_He was with friends - there is no way he could've been isolated at any given moment, there was the whole cast and there was Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Did something happen with Kurt? Did they have the time to talk before the musical began? Did Blaine found a way to apologize? - even though he really didn't have to, it was_ Kurt _who accepted the offer of What's-his-name-I-don't-even-care-but-I-already-can't-stand-this-guy, it was_ Kurt _who made them go to that gay bar, don't think I don't know how to read between the lines, Blaine._

_Did Blaine tried to apologize only to have Kurt rebuff him, refuse to hear any of it and stomp away? He might still be sore over the whole Tony thing and that would've been the perfect occasion to-_

_But no. No, no, stop it, they talked, they probably talked and made up and agreed that it was all a stupid argument and decided they'd keep going their merry, slow way instead of letting jerks in usurped blazers try and influence them. Then they joined hands and ran into the sunset towards the restaurant Artie's after-party was at. Probably._

_Hopefully._

_Blaine would call you if things got really wrong with Kurt._

_Wouldn't he?_ )

All in all it was a very long night of very little fitful sleep on a couch that was very much not designed for that.

*

When Cooper's phone rung shortly after 7 the following morning he vaulted over towards it so fast he almost knocked it off the coffee table in the process.

This time he didn't bother to control his voice when he answered, because by now he was pretty much convinced the voice he'd hear on the other end of the line would be that of a stranger's.

"... Hey," Blaine said in reply, sounding meek and slightly guilty under his mussed sleepiness and something else, something a little bit... dazed. He cleared his throat and added: "Sorry for not calling you back yesterday I got... distracted. And I forgot. I'm sorry."

It was obvious, in his voice, that he knew how much he'd made Cooper worry. Cooper only closed his eyes and breathed slowly out, trying to control that surge of anger that so frequently accompanies bone-deep relief.

"Yeah, well," he snorted lightly. "Nothing you can do about it now."

Now that he could think again beyond questions about Blaine's whereabouts and half-formed plans for driving to the airport and catching the earliest plane to Columbus, Cooper could feel the reality of his own situation dawning on him - wrecked with the lack of sleep but still faced with the prospect of a whole day of work in front of him. He tried to stave off that realization by turning his attention back to his brother. Who was alright. Alright.

"I conclude that Artie's celebration party was something, uh?" he asked, cracking a smile.

Which froze on his face when instead of an apologetic laugh Blaine started out to... splutter.

"It wasn't- I mean, it probably was but we didn't- I mean-"

Cooper felt his brow furrow in puzzlement, wondering what that could mean and what Blaine ( _we?_ ) had been doing if he hadn't been - oh.

 _Oh_.

Cooper felt his lips part but tried to shake himself, to push that idea out of his head. It was obviously far too early after clearly not enough sleep for his brain to function properly if it jumped to such conclusions at once. Just because that topic had recently and quite dramatically risen between Blaine and Kurt didn't mean that, that-

But Blaine had always been so very bad at lying outright. Skirting around the truth and leaving things unsaid, yes, but when faced with a situation where none of the above was possible... He tended to get muddled up in aborted attempts at explanations he never finished because he couldn't bring himself to actually say something false.

Which was exactly what was happening right now.

"You didn't go to Artie's party," Cooper said and was surprised himself by how calm his voice came out.

Blaine's disjointed ramble stopped at once. "I-" he hesitated, before letting out a defeated sigh. "No."

"But you were with Kurt."

Blaine hesitated again, and Cooper could see him nervously swallow before he answered: "... Yes."

It was a good thing, Cooper supposed, that Blaine decided not to deny anything almost at once. He remained silent for a couple of seconds, taking it all in.

He knew how he could - should? - react to that.

He could take on that admonishing tone he always carefully avoided but knew would come almost too naturally to him from years of frequenting their father. He could take on that disapproving, disparaging voice saying that their parents left Blaine alone in the house because they trusted he wouldn't take advantage of it that way - but that wasn't true, it wasn't trust, it was just that their parents didn't even imagine Blaine would do that, didn't even bother to stop and consider what he could do there as a teenager.

He could choose to be and act like that big brother anyone would expect - goofy and teasing and throwing a couple of well-chosen comments that'd make Blaine mortified enough to almost regret doing what he'd done and swear to himself that it'd never happen again or, if it did, that he'd never mention it or even hint at it in his brother's presence.

He could go for the most responsible option, fall back into safe but stilted patterns and into clinical questions of technicalities - ask the expected 'did you use protection?' or 'were you careful?', which would be pretty hypocritical since Cooper had never actually taken it upon himself to talk to Blaine about these things, hoping without really deluding himself that their father would take care of it until Blaine had come up to him one day with all these so-called facts he'd found on the internet and literally couldn't make heads or tails of.

Yes, Cooper could react in a lot of different ways, and he knew Blaine was aware of and probably dreading every single one of them.

"And it was right," he finally murmured. Not necessarily the best option, but the best his tired brain could come up with right now.

The right moment. The right person. The right everything.

"Yes," Blaine whispered. "Yes it was. It-" His awed, somewhat stunned voice trailed off for a second and if there had been any doubt about what had happened the night before they would've completely vanished right there and then. "It mattered."

"Good," Cooper managed to say, sinking down into the couch cushions.

( _Of course it mattered. It had to matter._ )

"It mattered for the both of us," Blaine specified softly.

Cooper blinked his eyes open and raised his eyebrows, wondering why Blaine felt the need to-

Oh.

"Okay," he whispered slowly - and then, because he couldn't help it, because Blaine had just given something he wouldn't ever be able to take back, wouldn't ever be able to give again but had apparently received the exact same thing in return: "Just - be careful? The both of you."

"Always," Blaine promised earnestly.

Cooper smiled at that and in spite of that yawning feeling spreading in his chest - it wasn't pain, not really, it was just an empty void, the stark realization that it was all happening, that it was real, that there was no going back now and most of all nothing he could do about it.

There wasn't much left to say after that - Cooper was clearly too tired to try and strike up a conversation about the previous night's performance right now and Blaine had to go to school anyway - so they hung up with their usual words.

("Talk to you later?"

"Always.")

He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back against the couch, feeling his weariness pressing down on him.

Sometimes he understood why their parents were so distant. Things were so much easier if you'd found the way to stop caring about your kids growing up.

*

"And how do you deal with that?" Cooper asked cautiously once Blaine had stopped incoherently ranting against one Finn I'm-Better-Than-You Hudson, breath loud and frustrated over the phone.

"I do a lot of boxing," Blaine replied at once, flatly and without a second of hesitation.

"That's good for your health," Cooper nodded after a pause. "Must I expect some sort of hulk instead of my brother next time we see each other?"

He joked. He joked because it was easier to joke about this than to let the memories New Directions' less than lukewarm welcome brought back really seep back in, memories of being disliked and shot down and given the cold shoulder from the get go, for no apparent reason at all, or just for being Blaine Anderson - and of not knowing what he'd done or what he could do. Of not being able to do anything.

Cooper hated feeling powerless, and he hated it even more when he knew that Blaine was feeling it too.

( _And Kurt?_ he wanted to ask. _Where is he when these things happen? Doesn't he step in? Doesn't he tell them off with that sharp wit you say comes so easily to him? Doesn't he help you fit in like you helped him at Dalton?_

 _Doesn't he?_ )

*

And then-

Then Blaine was in the hospital.

Or rather, Blaine _had been_ in the hospital - apparently their parents hadn't deemed it necessary to inform Cooper of that fact and no one else had thought to call him. It was only once Blaine was back home, confined to bed and waiting for surgery that Cooper learned about it.

From Blaine.

Who was hurt.

Cooper had already thrown the door to his closet open and was reaching for his suitcase, calculating how high a sentence he would incur by forcing down a slushie seasoned with rock-salt down an asshole's throat, when Blaine's voice, who hadn't stopped and had now taken on a frantic tone, finally pierced through the red fog that had fallen over his mind and stopped him in his tracks.

"Please, please," he was repeating, begging, desperate and almost hysterical because he felt Cooper hadn't been listening to him. "Don't come. Please. It's not that serious, I'm okay, I swear. I'm not in the hospital anymore, I'm not. Cooper, I'm okay. Please."

Cooper heard that tone, heard these words, heard Blaine in pain and tired and ready to shatter and froze. Then he stepped back and slowly lowered himself onto his bed, feeling like he would collapse if he didn't sit down.

"Blaine-" he started, only to be interrupted once more.

"Please, _please_ , don't come. Not now, not because of that. Please."

Cooper had to press his lips together to refrain from objecting at once. He remained like that, teetering on the edge, and then his shoulder fell and he buried his face in his free hand with a deep sigh.

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to wipe out the last five minutes, make it so that they hadn't happened, that Blaine hadn't taken the brunch of his panic and anger because what he really didn't need right now was his brother losing control. He needed care and gentleness and cautiousness. He needed-

He relented at once, of course, let go of his intent to catch the earliest plane and rush to Blaine's bedside, because he knew Blaine - he knew what his request for Cooper to stay away was about, knew he didn't want to be reminded of the last time he'd been in the hospital more than he already had been. So Cooper would respect his decision but god damn it he didn't want to. He hated everything that made it so that him being there for Blaine, physically there, would only make things worse. Everything and everyone.

"It'll be easier to put in a lawsuit from here anyway," he tried to chuckle.

( _See? I can joke about it. I'm calm. I'm listening._ )

It would've worked far better if he hadn't been entirely serious under that light tone.

"Please don't," Blaine whispered once more, because he knew Cooper and how much of that he'd actually meant. "His father is a state attorney or something. He could _destroy_ your career before it even began."

Cooper shook his head even though his brother couldn't see it. "Do you think I care about that, Blaine?" he enquired softly.

There was a reason why Cooper had chosen to study law among the several options he'd had for college and his career.

(They already had a doctor in the family. After all, no matter how absent he was, their father still had many contacts all over the country and could still make sure that they were pushed forward on the waiting lists in case an operation was needed and that they were treated by the best surgeons and specialists.)

" _I_ care," Blaine retorted fiercely, sounding choked up and angry.

Because he knew that against a seasoned, probably influential lawman, Cooper didn't stand a chance no matter how justified his accusations were.

But oh - one day it wouldn't be like that anymore. One day Cooper wouldn't be a clumsy beginner anymore. One day his name would be known in the legal world, known and renowned and respected if not feared, and people would think twice before they entered a court against his clients. And people would think more than twice, they'd think about everything they liked in their little lives, everything they had to lose, before they messed with his brother. One day-

It was Cooper's own beautiful dream.

He dreamed of that world, a world where he could be strong and powerful enough to protect Blaine from everything, to right every single wrong that was done to him, to prevent them from even happening.

But Blaine... Blaine, idealist as he was, wished for a world where Cooper wouldn't even have to do that, wouldn't think of doing such stupid things - where intimidation and power games weren't needed, a world of tolerance and equality and good will.

Neither of these worlds existed.

But damn it if Cooper wouldn't do anything for reality to be as close to _his_ dream as possible - because he'd stopped believing that a world like Blaine wished it could ever exist a long time ago.

*

They compromised.

Cooper wouldn't drop everything to rush back to Ohio but damn it if he wouldn't stick as close to his brother as he possibly could.

Fortunately Skype was a wonderful invention.

For the two following weeks he took his private laptop with him to work and settled it on the corner of his desk to start it up as soon as he arrived. By the time Blaine woke up and connected himself Cooper was in the middle of a report or reading through a file but waiting and ready to accept a call and turn on the webcam.

They mostly didn't talk - Cooper was at work and even if he kept an earpiece in his left ear to hear if his brother said something he mostly went about his business as usual. Blaine for his part spent most his days groggy because of his pain medication or sleeping it away. But there still was a connection, a presence - movement Cooper saw out of the corner of his eye, the rustle of paper that slowly beat the rhythm of Cooper's day of work to Blaine, soft music trickling into Cooper's ear because Blaine couldn't do much since he wasn't to strain his unhurt eye with too much reading or movie watching and took refuge among notes and melodies he sometimes hummed under his breath. Sometimes Blaine let himself get carried away and started singing in earnest, making Cooper smile.

They spent the whole day like that, side by side but not, only interrupted when Cooper had someone coming in his office to discuss a case or had to briefly go somewhere, and when Blaine had friends over.

(Kurt, every afternoon from five p.m. to half past seven, like clockwork. The meet-the-brother/boyfriend suspense plan was still on apparently.)

And sometimes they did talk - sometimes Blaine stopped being numb or half-asleep or more or less okay and it only took him being eerily silent, exceedingly still for a second too much for Cooper to glance in his direction and turn his whole attention towards him if it turned out he hadn't dozed off once more.

His efficiency at work suffered from it, of course. He compensated by taking work back home and poring over it late into the evening once Blaine had gone to sleep and by standing up earlier to be back at the office a couple of hours before Blaine even woke up.

Such hours were straining but Cooper didn't care.

It even looked good on his work sheet. And he was here for Blaine, which was what mattered most.

So he was here when Blaine woke up with a start, a gasp stuck in his throat as he struggled to find his way back to here and now, grabbing at the slippery slope of reality with powerless hands, ready to fall back into darkness. Cooper was here to call his name softly, to offer a firm grip anchoring him while he found his bearings and supporting him when the stark realization came that his accident had made many things stir and rush back to the surface - things Blaine had thought, had _hoped_ he had forgotten, had moved on from and left far behind.

(Cooper was here at night too - most nights Blaine slept like the dead and didn't dream but sometimes, sometimes he did. Sometimes that part of him that still lay crumpled on the ground of that parking lot, that part of him that was still broken and hurting and would never quite be alright again no matter how small it was now, that part would take over and remind him that that night had happened, would always have happened and had changed him forever.)

Cooper was here when Blaine sniffled quietly, his medication filling his eyes with tears he'd learned years ago to hold back no matter what, and confessed that he didn't understand. The Warblers were his friends, even if he'd transferred, he didn't how they could do that, try to steal their songs and plan that slushie and most of all leave him behind on that dirty parking lot floor. Cooper was here and bit his lip and didn't say anything because he didn't have an answer - because no matter how influential that Dalton impostor douchebag was among the Warblers, anything he'd said should've flown out through the window as soon as Blaine'd been hurt, even if most of them probably hadn't known how serious it was, where it'd brought Blaine back at once.

Cooper was here when Blaine received yet another text from Kurt - his fucking _boyfriend_ \- gushing about yet another card from his 'secret admirer', not caring for a second about what it was doing to Blaine. Blaine who was stuck in bed and couldn't do a thing, every single one of his grandiose, romantic plans for Valentine's Day thwarted by his injury. Cooper was here when Blaine tried to be brave and happy for Kurt while in reality he was filled with dread, hurt and lonely and worried and half-convinced already that Kurt was going to be swept off his feet by some stranger, leave him and never look back.

(And no matter what Blaine said about Kurt deserving his own share of love and admiration for once, right now the only thing Cooper knew was that Kurt was being either downright cruel on purpose or incredibly, stupidly oblivious for not noticing what he was doing to Blaine. Meanness or stupidity - neither were things Cooper could forgive.)

And Cooper was here when Blaine made up his mind and started planning once more, making phone calls and practicing songs and putting an outfit together while he should've been _resting_ and not even thinking of leaving his bed so soon after his surgery. Yet he didn't say a thing apart from reminding Blaine to go to sleep early and dropped by the costume shop on the very day Blaine mentioned his intentions for the first time. There he bought an intriguing item he'd noticed as part of some Love Pirate costume in the display window and sent it - so that at least his brother wouldn't even start to agonize over the proper way to fit an eyepatch in his outfit.

*

(It turned out later that Kurt had thought his 'secret admirer' was Blaine. Cooper didn't care because it didn't change a thing - that week had happened, that uncertain hurt had flittered over Blaine's face no matter how rapidly he'd covered it, and even if Blaine had shrugged it off at once Cooper wasn't so keen on forgiving and forgetting.

Kurt should've _noticed_ something was amiss.

And fuck it, Cooper didn't care if he was being unfair either.)

*

Things began to fall apart in following week.

Cooper was acutely aware of it no matter how Blaine tried to pass it off as nothing.

Blaine attempted to, well, to _sing_ about it, because the doctors had said he wasn't to physically exert himself, which ruled out boxing everything out of his system, and because no matter what he still didn't know how to put it all into his own words.

He didn't know how to talk about Mr. Jeering Jerkface and what he'd made him feel even before the slushie incident - how passive, how powerless, how _dumb_ , because Blaine had never been good at readily reacting to overly direct and rapid approaches. He hadn't known how to answer to Sebastian's quicksilver tongue and unabashed come-ons, how to regain his footing fast enough once that jackass had pulled it from under his feet. Even before the slushie it'd begun to bring him back to a time and place he hated.

And after the slushie that was even worse.

Then there also was one David Karofsky turning out to be Kurt's 'secret admirer' and even though Blaine didn't worry anymore that Kurt would be whisked away from his grasp he didn't know how to deal with the way Kurt reacted to that, the way he behaved like he really wanted to be there for Karofsky and help him while he didn't owe him anything. Blaine didn't know how to deal with the jealousy rising in him, inevitably followed by a self-berating shame, even though Cooper considered it was understandable if not justified. No one had ever been there for Blaine like Kurt wanted to be there for Karofsky after all, and least of all when he'd really needed it. And now the amount of time and thoughts Kurt devoted to his former _bully_ were as much and as many he would spend not being with Blaine, not entirely.

And right now Blaine really needed not to be alone, not to _feel_ alone or abandoned.

Life always ended up being unfair in the worst ways.

Blaine tried to shrug it off, to hide it like it was something unimportant, something that would soon be gone. He didn't want Cooper to worry too much because Cooper's worry was yet another thing weighing down on him, making him feel guilty for not being stronger, better, happier. Which made Cooper feel guilty too for being part of everything Blaine had to deal with while he hadn't the energy - for losing it so easily when it came to his little brother and for always being ready to do foolish things and how much worse of a big brother could he be, really?

He tried not to burst out with it, not to ask Blaine what was wrong as soon as he picked up the phone and heard his strained voice. He didn't need to anyway - it always came pouring out since it bothered Blaine so much and Cooper was at least grateful for that automatic honesty between them, for the fact they could share everything and Blaine would come to him if he needed an attentive ear.

But he missed his and Blaine's more casual conversations, the sign that things were alright, and with each and every phone call that came and ended up in an earnest heart-to-heart he felt himself come closer to the decision of asking for a leave at work. Of flying back and at least having the impression he could do _something_ and help since he'd be there and not stuck _here_ in goddamn New York City.

And then like they often did things came to a head and toppled over suddenly and dramatically. David Karofsky attempted suicide and damn it, none of these kids should've to deal with such things. And then Mr. Conceited Whatshisface was pretending to have a change of heart and to repent and to apologize.

"Like it's enough," Blaine growled over the phone, and Cooper felt angry right there with him and damn it if it didn't feel good to share that. "Like it's worth anything _now_." He paused then grunted indignantly. "It should've been Kurt he apologized to anyway, the slushie was meant for him after all and-"

The moment these last words registered Cooper felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had just been thrown at his head and had put out his ire.

"Wait, what?"

"What?" Blaine repeated, obviously not aware of what he'd just _said_.

"The slushie was meant for Kurt?"

"Yes," Blaine answered simply, like it didn't mean anything, like it didn't change anything to the whole situation. "I mean, you didn't know? I kind of - jumped in the way." He let out a self-conscious laugh, and Cooper could almost see him reach out to thread an awkward hand through his hair only to stop when he remembered they were gelled. It was a nervous reflex he still hadn't gotten entirely rid of. "My body kind of moved on its own, it was a reflex. A stupid one, I know, but-"

But he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Cooper felt his mouth open and close without any sound coming out of it. He felt... stunned. And horrified. And many other things he couldn't quite make out, not now.

Because Blaine had taken the slushie for Kurt. He'd gotten _hurt_ for Kurt. He'd crumpled on the ground of that parking lot for Kurt. He'd ended up in the hospital once more, in need of _surgery_ , for Kurt.

He'd gone back to that place, to that time, and no matter how much Blaine tried to undermine it Cooper knew how much it had shaken him, still did. But he'd done it, without sparing a thought for himself, for what he was risking.

And he'd do it again. For Kurt.

That was when Cooper knew. Enough was enough.

Whatever this was, it had to stop. Now.

*

Contrary to the stereotype, Cooper's superior wasn't an asshole.

Much to the contrary.

"And would you care to explain me why your request for a leave wasn't on my desk the second you heard your brother had been in the hospital?"

"Well, we were right in the middle of the Merrion case back then."

Cooper's first argument was met with an unimpressed, skeptic look. Try again, boy.

"I think my brother has been making wrong choices," he confessed. "And I believed he'd be more inclined to listen to me and my advice if I turned up in a context of celebration rather than as the panicked older brother rushing to his bedside as soon as he's hurt. Blaine... would've been quite upset to see I'm only here for him when things are exceptionally bad."

( _"Please please, don't come. Not now, not because of that. Please."_ )

That explanation granted Cooper a smile.

"Strategic choice," Mr. Barkley muttered. "You see, Mr. Anderson, that's why I'm convinced you'll make an excellent lawyer. You always instinctively know the best way to present the situation from the right angle."

"I try, sir."

The smile turned into a slight chuckle at Cooper's formal tone, followed by a flicking of the hand. "Now I believe you have bags to pack. So squat, young man. I don't want to see your face for the two following weeks at least."

Cooper obeyed.

*

He left New York on Friday evening, taking his beaten-up old car that clashed with the new, shiny, sometimes luxury models silently waiting in the underground parking of his apartment building. Leaving the city was as slow and atrocious as always, but the traffic cleared once he was on the Interstate and he felt some sort of satisfaction once he got to really floor it and speed off towards his aim.

He drove for as long as he could, stopped around midnight to sleep at a motel and left early in the morning, barely taking the time for a quick shower and shave - which he only bothered with because it'd be better for him to appear neat and composed instead of rumpled and crazed.

It might've gone better if he'd taken the time to form some kind of plan beyond that though.

*

Cooper dropped by their house in Westerville to put down his bags and quickly freshen up, then he left again for Lima. He got a bit confused upon reaching the town, losing his way twice before he finally reached McKinley High. He was far too late to see the competition but it was okay, if disappointing. At least Blaine would've had the time to recover a bit with his teammates and wouldn't mind being whisked away for a celebratory - or comforting, but Cooper didn't think it'd come to that - lunch.

Too bad things never worked quite the way they should.

At McKinley Cooper was told every single member of New Directions had already left to attend a marriage, of all things. He asked for directions and left again, wondering who the hell would be crazy enough to get married now when everything was going awry.

At the court room Cooper learned that the marriage hadn't taken place and had actually been cancelled because one of the bridesmaids had been in a car accident and was now in the hospital where the whole wedding party had consequentially gone too.

At the hospital he took a second to let out a long breath once he'd parked. God he hated these places and why did Blaine have to always end back there? Wasn't everything else enough already?

Then he stepped out of his car, dialing and raising his phone to his ear as he got out of the parking lot and walked around the building to reach the entrance doors.

Blaine answered on the second ring.

"Hey," he whispered. Cooper's call didn't come as a surprise.

"Hey," Cooper replied, almost wincing at how flat and numb Blaine sounded. "I was calling to hear how it went."

Blaine's answer was short and understandably weary. "We won."

"You don't seem very happy about that."

"Well, it's just-" Blaine trailed off then sighed. "Sorry, I can't talk here, I've got to- Just leave me a minute."

Cooper hummed in agreement and leaned against the banister of the steps leading up to the hospital's entrance as he waited. He heard Blaine parting from his friends then swiftly walking - and then he was there, stepping out through the sliding glass-doors.

He was wearing a tux, black and clean-cut, crisp white shirt and black bow tie, hair carefully slicked back. Cooper belatedly remembered he'd been supposed to attend a wedding.

Then Blaine took a breath and prepared to speak again - but whatever he intended to say stopped in his throat when he raised his head and caught sight of his older brother standing right here at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes never leaving Blaine, Cooper snapped his phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. He straightened up while Blaine froze for a second before his face crumpled, and he opened his arms right on time for Blaine to stumble down the stairs and throw himself into the hug.

"Hey," he murmured, tilting his head towards Blaine's and tightening his hold.

Blaine let out a shuddering breath, face pressed into Cooper's shoulder. "You're here," he said, sounding slightly incredulous but oh so relieved.

"Well. I wanted to surprise you and celebrate but... I guess it got a bit shot."

"You didn't even know we were going to win," Blaine mumbled, his voice now muffled by Cooper's shirt as he buried his face in it.

"I had faith," was Cooper's retort.

They grew silent after that, Cooper rocking them from side to side very slightly, very slowly, and Blaine all but collapsed against him, breathing him in with his eyes closed.

When they parted and stepped back, Blaine shook his head, obviously trying to put himself back together. "I can't believe you're here," he couldn't help but say.

Cooper smiled fondly, knowing Blaine could see the worry in his eyes. "You're exhausted," he said softly, one of his hands already back on Blaine's shoulder because when he saw his little brother that way he couldn't help but reach out to comfort him in every way he could. His tone was hesitant and cautious when he went on, not knowing how his words were going to be received: "You can't do much here. Please let me take you home and try to rest?"

( _Please let me take care of you and take you away from here, I know you hate hospitals, you know I hate them too-_ )

It was clear clue as to how tired Blaine was that he only paused for a second before he sighed defeatedly and nodded, his shoulders slumping. "Okay," he agreed. "But I have to- Kurt."

He turned his head in the direction of the door, as if responding to a continuous call tugging at his ear and asking him to come back.

Blaine was entirely too ready to step back into a hospital for that boy, Cooper judged.

He silently agreed though and they climbed up the steps together, stepping through the doors and into the lobby. Cooper followed Blaine as he led them through a double door and into a corridor, then stopped when they reached a turn and what was definitely a whole wedding party came into view.

"Go on," Cooper said, patting Blaine on the shoulder. "I'll wait here."

Blaine glanced at him and threw him a grateful smile, probably thinking Cooper was being thoughtful and leaving him some privacy while he informed his friends he was leaving. It was part of the reason, of course, but there was also a more strategic side to it - Cooper didn't want to be introduced, didn't want to be roped into staying, and most of all found it reassuring, found it easier to first watch and assess the situation from a distance.

All in all, they all made a grotesque picture. All these people, all these _kids_ , dressed to the nines and crammed in the corridor - bridesmaids in bright pink gowns and boys in tuxes, and what was very obviously the bride in the middle, still in her white gown but covered with her fiancé's black vest because a wedding dress had never been meant for waiting in a chilly corridor for news about a friend's critical condition. And that was when Cooper noticed that the bride was no woman but a girl, the groom no man but a boy, that this wasn't the wedding of an older sibling or of a parent of one of Blaine's friends but of two of Blaine's friends themselves. He felt himself frown - they looked so young, they _were_ so young, did they have any idea of what they were doing?

No. Probably not.

But then his attention was diverted because Blaine had just reached one of the boys who stood up from his chair as soon as he noticed him.

This had to be Kurt.

It had to be Kurt for the way they stepped up to each other, stopping far closer than was strictly necessary; for the way their hands reached out at once, reached out and met and held; for the way they didn't even need to talk at first, Kurt ducking his head down to look at Blaine in the eye.

He was tall - taller than Blaine, which wasn't all that surprising when one thought about it, but also slender and trim, his eyes solicitous and intent on his boyfriend's face. And for a second, as they stood there in matching tuxes and talked softly with their heads tucked close to one another Cooper couldn't help but picture them being the ones about to get married. A shot of queasy panic flared bright inside him but he pushed it back at once, made sure to appear very calm, very firm, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed when Kurt briefly glanced in his direction. Their eyes only met for a second before Kurt's attention went back to Blaine, listening to what he was saying and nodding softly.

A man had approached them to stand behind Kurt and he put a hand on his shoulder, saying something to Blaine - probably telling him that it was okay, that he wasn't leaving his boyfriend alone, that he could go since Blaine nodded, shoulders relaxing minutely. He leaned up for a quick, surprisingly tender kiss Kurt returned with his eyes closed, then he stepped back and let his hand slip out of Kurt's grip, stepped back and turned around with a sigh to head back towards his brother.

"They said she made it through surgery," Blaine announced once he was close enough for Cooper to hear him. "They're waiting to go and see her."

Cooper nodded silently, relieved at the news because it meant Blaine wouldn't feel as bad for leaving now, then he straightened up and threw an arm around his little brother's shoulders. Blaine leaned against him and let himself be led away, eyes trained to the ground - so he didn't notice when Cooper slightly turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. Kurt was still watching them go and biting his lips, brow tight with worry.

Cooper slightly narrowed his eyes at him before turned away and tucked Blaine closer to his side as they left.

*

His unannounced arrival called for surprise at home, of course.

"You should've told us you were coming, I haven't planned groceries for four people," their mother said disapprovingly, and Cooper smiled as he replied: "We can order out, mom."

"Won't that be a problem at work? You've barely begun, now is not the time to give them the wrong impression," their father said sternly, and Cooper kept his smile as he replied: "All cleared and agreed on before I left, dad."

He unpacked his clothes while Blaine changed into more comfortable clothes, then made his bed and flopped onto it with Blaine at his side. They stayed there the whole afternoon and talked and napped - and made plans.

On Sunday they stood up late and had a lazy breakfast. Then he let Blaine reply to the texts telling him their hospitalized friend had woken up and would be alright and send another one to Kurt telling him he'd be gone the whole day before they left his phone and the house behind to go to Lake Logan. The weather was unstable, damp and windy, so they settled for walking around it instead of sitting and freezing on its bank. The path was framed by trees that shaded it with their leaves and made it agreeable in summer - but right now the branches were still naked, beaded with raindrops waiting for people to pass to fall on their nose or down their nape. They walked for hours and talked and after a while they even started playfully bumping each other in the shoulders until their pant legs were soaked with too much stepping through the grasses and bushes lining their way. They came full circle as it neared three p.m. and ate at the small family restaurant overlooking the lake, exchanging pleasantries with the waitress who recognized them from countless summer days.

They drove back to Westerville then and chased each other down the aisles of the 24/7 supermarket, filling a cart so that their mother couldn't complain about an empty or inadequately stocked fridge, and sung silly songs while putting it all away in the kitchen. They rewarded themselves for their efforts by not even making good use of what they'd just bought and ordering pizzas they ate while watching a movie they already knew by heart. They turned their toothbrushing into a competition and Blaine didn't even bother to try and avoid the headlock Cooper caught him in when he lost, laughing and letting himself be led to his room and made prisoner of his own bed and covers. Cooper stole one of Blaine's pillows as his booty and turned off the lights.

"Thanks, Cooper," Blaine said when he reached the door. "I really needed that."

Cooper smiled at him over his shoulder and slipped out.

He'd needed that too.

*

On Monday morning he decided to enact his sketchy outline of a plan and drove Blaine to school.

Actually he had half a mind to simply turn the car around and take Blaine with him to the airport to bring him to New York right now, find him a school there for him to graduate and have him never set foot in Ohio ever again - and at the same time never seeing Kurt ever again either, which wouldn't entirely be a bad thing when he thought about it. At least there wouldn't be any more dangerous slushie-incidents involved, that was for sure.

But Cooper knew some things couldn't realistically happen - Blaine was still a minor, under their parents' 'care' and most of all he probably wouldn't want to leave.

(Or would he? If Cooper tried hard enough, was convincing enough... who knew?)

No, right now he couldn't do any of that, right now all he could do was remind Blaine that he was here for him, always had been and always would be. He'd make sure Blaine knew and felt that, make sure he didn't even need to think before reaching out for his older brother. For his older brother and not for his boyfriend, because by now it was obvious that Kurt wasn't always trustworthy and infallible on these matters so Cooper had better make sure Blaine didn't feel like he needed _Kurt_ in that kind of situation - or, like, _ever_ , because then it would be okay if Kurt left. Cooper would still be there, always be there, and Blaine wouldn't need anyone else and most of all wouldn't risk getting hurt because of them.

And his plan for reinserting himself into his brother's life might've paid off if he'd taken the main factor into account: that is to say, Blaine himself.

Blaine, and his absurd logic according to which the way to make the things he considered were great in his life exponentially greater was to bring them together.

Cooper should've expected it as soon as he received a text from Blaine around noon and which consisted of: _Hi Coop, no need to come and pick me up this afternoon, I got a ride. See you later! B_. But curiously, he didn't put two and two together until he heard what sounded like a voluminous car rumble closer and stop in their driveway. Only then did it dawn on him.

Who would give Blaine a ride home all the way to Westerville?

He immediately put down the document he'd been reading and took off his glasses, feeling inexplicably nervous.

So Blaine had decided that now was the time for him to meet his boyfriend, no matter how little Cooper was sure about that boy.

Okay. Fine. No problem. Cooper could do that.

Only he didn't quite know which posture to take. Because he sure as hell didn't feel like welcoming Kurt with open arms.

It wasn't that he'd decided to hate him - he didn't, he didn't even know him. Which was all it boiled down to: Cooper didn't know that boy who'd wormed his way into his brother's life, or at least didn't know him beyond what Blaine had told him and which was certainly more than a little bit skewed. So it was entirely justified for him to be a little bit... wary. Better err on the side of caution than end up sorry.

Plus Blaine might think the world of his boyfriend but Cooper wasn't as blindsided as him and couldn't help but wonder if Kurt was taking their relationship as seriously as Blaine did, was as much involved in it and giving as Blaine was. Because if Cooper thought about it his record on that matter wasn't the most shining.

Blaine had transferred schools to be with him and Kurt had only seen himself shining in his stead at the lead of the school musical, wanting it so hard it had made Blaine give up on the role without even trying.

Blaine had struggled with gaining acceptance from the New Directions members who were far less welcoming than he'd been led to believe and Kurt had only worried about his NYADA application and his projects for the following year in New York.

Blaine had been hurting and trying to recover form an eye injury he'd gotten for _Kurt_ 's sake and Kurt had only gushed about some secret admirer a whole week long.

And the list could go on, but by now Cooper had stood up from the living-room table and was making his way towards the entryway. He heard the door open and close, followed by footsteps and a high drawl and the rustle of fabric and Blaine's low laugh and then he'd reached the doorway and caught sight of Blaine's merry eyes crinkled at the corners by a large, genuine smile.

The boy who'd entered with him was smiling too, hanging his coat on the rack, and Cooper took him in up close for the first time. The first thing he noticed once more was how tall he was - not in absolute terms, but in comparison to Blaine whose small stature always stood out more starkly when he was near other people. Then there was his carefully thought attire crowned by elegantly styled hair. He had a pale skin and pale eyes, looking the perfect part of a city home-bird.

Then both boys' attention turned towards him and he smiled reflexively - a habit he shared with Blaine, a placating gesture that was the best introduction in any kind of situation they weren't so sure about going in.

And he actually wasn't sure about this one.

He wasn't starting with an entirely set and negative opinion about Kurt. He was just judging Kurt potentially guilty until proven innocent. If Kurt was as great as Blaine had been led to believe, then he wouldn't have any problem to win that trial, would he?

"Hi," Blaine said, smile wide and voice expectant. "So. Introductions. This his Cooper, my older brother," he told Kurt, gesturing towards Cooper. His eyes lingered on his boyfriend, as if looking away from his face would demand a conscious, strong effort from his part, then he put his hands on Kurt's shoulders as he giddily went on: "And this is Kurt. My boyfriend."

Kurt's shoulders hunched slightly, an almost imperceptible rosy hue rising to his cheeks as he smiled, and Cooper saw Blaine give him a little encouraging push forward.

He himself took a step and reached out a hand.

"Pleasure," he said.

His voice and smile were nothing but pleasant but he made sure his handshake was firm, bordering on too tight, to get the underlying message across. _I'm watching you_.

He saw Kurt notice it and freeze slightly before his eyes narrowed a bit and he raised his chin minutely. _Fine_ , he seemed to say, defiantly and immediately rising up to the challenge.

Fortunately Blaine didn't notice their silent exchange - he was too excited to do so.

"So," he announced. "We've decided you needed a celebratory dinner since mom didn't make one. Don't worry, we have everything planned. All you have to do is go back to work..." At that he took a couple of steps forward and made Cooper turn back around, forcefully pushing him back into the living-room without leaving him the time to protest. "And to come when we call you. Think you can do that?"

"I'm not sure," Cooper laughed. "It sounds awfully complicated."

But he docilely sat back down at the table, only glancing back up when Blaine left the room to see him take Kurt's hand and lead him into the kitchen.

*

Cooper started and glanced up from the law book he was consulting when he heard someone discreetly clear their throat. His eyes landed on Kurt, warily standing in the living-room doorway.

"Dinner's ready," he said quietly. Cooper nodded and began tidying up his documents, feeling Kurt's eyes lingering on him before the boy turned away and left.

He joined him and Blaine in the kitchen where he helped set the table. Then Blaine dished up the food - which looked elaborate as well as delicious - and they all sat down to eat. A glance at the clock informed Cooper that it wasn't seven yet, which meant they had plenty of time before their parents came back from work - after nine if at all, since they'd gotten used long ago to their father not letting them know if he was having a double-shift at the hospital and since their mother sometimes preferred to sleep at a hotel in Columbus if she deemed that it was too late and that she felt too tired to drive back.

Cooper turned his attention to the two other occupants of the table - and couldn't help but see that what he'd noticed when he'd sat back down to work, wondering if he'd manage to get anything done since he was distracted by the voices drifting in from the kitchen, was confirmed: Kurt talked a lot.

And he was good at it.

He knew the right words and the right tones, all rolling smoothly on his quick, clever tongue in a way that was impressive for someone his age. Cooper thought it wasn't too daring to surmise it was a talent he'd honed over the years, sharpening it with his wit against the jibes and jeers of his bullies. Words were nothing but another weapon when used the right - or wrong? - way. Cooper knew all about it by now, and he was sure Kurt had managed to corner his so-called tormentors more than once, making them feel infuriatingly powerless and mostly defeated without them even understanding why. They'd probably tried to compensate with more violent shoves, inarticulate shouts and uninventive slurs - but in the end Kurt was still there, as sharp as ever, using words like magic.

And Blaine, Cooper realized, Blaine was mesmerized by it.

He wasn't like that, Blaine. He'd never been good with words, never mastered them enough not to lose the control he had over them as soon as he got riled up. He needed time to think about them and to carefully choose them - something one doesn't have in a confrontation, and Blaine always ended up unsettled and choked up by his emotions, grasping at ways to express them but mostly failing.

There was a reason why he'd turned to boxing in reaction to bullying - and why Kurt hadn't.

And now that difference stood out: Kurt talked and Blaine simply listened, watched him with a soft, besotted smile on his lips and in his eyes that Cooper had never seen before and found almost unnerving. Even more so that Kurt kept talking and didn't leave any time for Blaine to bring in his own input, didn't stop to wait and listen to what Blaine might've had to say. He didn't even appear to notice that he was keeping Blaine in the background.

Did he like the sound of his own damn voice that much?

But it was okay. It was okay because Cooper was here now and he was good with words too - it was kind of his job to be. So he'd do the talking for Blaine and make Kurt step down a bit from his cloud of selfish obliviousness.

A cleverly slipped in sentence was all it took to interrupt the continuous flow of the boy's words, to have him glance at him in surprise then suspicion when he caught the look in Cooper's eye, the intent behind it. He saw him gear up for the many-layered conversation that'd undoubtedly follow and smiled a smile that was only entirely pleasant on the surface.

 _Go on. Try. I'm not afraid of you, Kurt Hummel_.

*

He wasn't afraid of Kurt Hummel.

(He was just afraid of the damage Kurt Hummel could do now that he'd stepped through the door and entered the precious china shop that was Blaine's heart.)

Problem was, Kurt Hummel wasn't afraid of him either.

Cooper had always had that fantasy featuring him and every single one of Blaine's potential suitors. That almost hope that he'd be an authority figure so threateningly daunting that they'd all turn tail and run for the hills where they would quaver in fear of his nearly divine wrath if their intentions were anything but entirely, genuinely good.

Which wasn't quite what had happened on his and Kurt's first encounter. At all. No, Kurt had stuck out throughout dinner and would go on sticking around - the time he'd taken to kiss Blaine goodbye couldn't have been a clearer statement for that.

Which meant that Kurt either had nothing but good intentions (which would do nothing to reassure Cooper because Hell was paved with those) or had far more guts than should be allowed.

Or, more realistically, that Cooper wasn't that intimidating.

He took the time to regret not having chosen a job that would've allowed him to carry heavy, obvious, deadly weapons on him at all times. Then he decided that watching dubious series on TV in the evening when he was alone in his flat and needed a way to relax his brain cells after a whole day of poring over legal matters was clearly bad for his thought process as well as for his grasp on reality - and that he should stop.

But the fact that Kurt wasn't intimidated by him didn't mean Cooper was going to make things easy for him. After all he had come to see and support his little brother who needed it after a rough month - hell, a rough half year - which meant he'd spend as much time with him as he could with absolutely no regards for any other people Blaine might usually spend his afternoons with outside of school.

It helped that Blaine was more than happy to take him up on everything he suggested because he'd missed him too and wanted to make the most of his stay. He let Cooper drive him to school and pick him up afterwards, take him to a coffee shop or the mall or the movies or a restaurant or a park to hang out, without a glance backwards. It didn't occur to him that his friends - and boyfriend - might be dismayed by it because, in Blaine's mind, there wasn't any doubt they'd understand how important Cooper was to him as the only member of his family that counted and made him feel at home. If Kurt was as smart as he seemed then he wouldn't even dare speak up and complain about it, unless he wanted to spark a fight, be met with nothing but incomprehension from Blaine's part and appear like the snappy, selfish boyfriend who didn't care about Blaine's wishes and needs.

If the light glares Cooper got thrown in his direction while Blaine had his back turned were anything to go by then Kurt was sorely tempted to say something but biting his tongue, aware that it wouldn't turn things in his favor.

Cooper made sure he returned the look with an innocent grin and a small wave of his own every single time.

Of course, Blaine didn't forget and drop his boyfriend entirely. Sometimes he asked Cooper not to pick him up at school and come fetch him later at Kurt's house - and Cooper did without a word, showing up exactly at the appointed time, sending a text and waiting for Blaine in his car because that way Kurt couldn't try and delay their departure with any kind of distraction. Sometimes he brought Kurt home with him and Cooper had to be careful to intercept them with tea or coffee before they went up to Blaine's room, pretending he was taking a short break in his work whereas he was actually just monitoring and making Kurt internally seethe. And sometimes Blaine brought Kurt along on an evening, because he wanted his boyfriend and his brother to get to know each other without pushing things too much. And it was almost too easy, then, to find ways to exclude Kurt from the conversation, or at least to make him feel like he was the third wheel - there were so many topics he wasn't interested in or didn't know the first thing about, so many words that sparked that smile of recognition on Blaine's face but not on his, and most of all so many memories Blaine and Cooper shared that he didn't. Oh, sure, he might smile at seeing his boyfriend so lively and try to bring the conversation back on tracks that were more familiar to him - but thing was, he never managed to lose Cooper the way Cooper could lose him, because Cooper already knew more or less everything there was to know about what had happened between the two.

Cooper'd known Blaine since he'd taken his first breath. That was something Kurt Hummel would never have.

(And he was kind of a horrible person to rub it in that much, he knew. But right now? He couldn't care less.)

*

He'd known even before it happened that stealing Blaine away to Cleveland for the whole weekend might be pushing things too far - but, hey, one, he had the paycheck to cover the expenses now and two, Blaine had agreed.

(They both remembered Christmas, when Cooper had barely had the time to fly in for one day before he had to leave again, busy with the closure of the last case he'd had to do as an intern and which would secure his contract and partner status. That, and neither of them knew when would be the next time Cooper would have the occasion to take some time off.)

It had been a daring, somewhat obvious move, but still he hadn't expected for Kurt to react the way he did - which wasn't by confronting Blaine, but by directly confronting _him_.

"Blaine's not here," Cooper said when he found Kurt on the doorstep on Monday afternoon.

"I know," he replied, shoulders set and chin held high. "He's in glee club."

Cooper raised his eyebrows. "And you aren't?"

"I ditched," Kurt retorted flippantly. "I have to talk to you."

Cooper had to hand it to the kid: he definitely had some guts.

He stepped to the side to indulgently let him in, then followed when Kurt headed right to the living-room without waiting for an invitation. He probably knew Cooper would've tried and made them stay in the entryway just to make things that bit more uncomfortable.

Kurt spun on his heel when Cooper reached the living-room doorway and leaned against the doorjamb, hands in his pocket, affecting nonchalance.

"Blaine and I talk to each other, you know," he began, and Cooper had to bit back a smile at the attempt to make their relationship appear solid and based on trust. Not that Cooper doubted it was, but it showed Kurt was feeling a bit insecure. "So I see two possible reasons for this," he went on, flicking his hand between them to refer to the whole situation. "Either you inexplicably managed to fool him into believing you have no problem with him being gay, or you just have a problem with him _acting_ on it. And I seriously doubt the first one applies because Blaine isn't stupid."

Cooper grinned that grin he knew had already set more than one attorney in the party adverse to his on edge. "I'm impressed by your deduction skills, Sherlock."

The expression and tone worked like a charm. Kurt gaped at him for a second - he'd probably expected him to get defensive or try to deny his statement - then burst out with:

"What's your problem with me?"

He would've loved to accompany that with a series of well chosen words, Cooper could see it in his eyes, prowling at the tip of his tongue. He was almost impressed by how easily the kid refrained from uttering them though.

"Don't think too highly of yourself," he snorted. "I don't have a problem with _you_ specifically. No, I don't like the idea of him with you. But I wouldn't like the idea of him with anyone. So you're right." He shrugged then narrowed his eyes. "But if I'm being honest I really don't trust _you_."

"Why?" Kurt asked at once, eyebrows drawn together and arms tightly crossed in a defensive gesture.

"After what happened lately, do you really need to ask me that?"

He saw something dart through Kurt's eyes at that, a flash of guilt, and almost smirked at hitting the mark so well - but then Kurt recovered almost at once, tightened his lips, took a breath and _pounced_.

"Oh yeah? And where were _you_ when the slushie happened? When Blaine was in the hospital, or waiting for surgery? I don't remember seeing you anywhere near his bedside. Actually I don't remember anything showing that you even cared."

That was enough to make Cooper realize that he might have underestimated the kid.

"You don't know a thing," he hissed, knowing how that sounded but unable to hide the fact that Kurt had hit a sore spot.

(Blaine hadn't wanted him here, Blaine had _hated_ the thought of him here.)

"Well, you don't know a thing about me either, so you don't get to judge me," Kurt retorted, pressing the advantage he felt he had gotten. "At least _I_ was here for him-"

Cooper couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that, raising a hand to flick back the bangs falling on his forehead. "Oh yes, you sure were, when you weren't busy gushing about that secret admirer and not caring about him for a second."

"I thought it _was_ him," Kurt gritted between his teeth.

"Still happened," Cooper shrugged, showing that he was aware of the implied accusation that he wasn't being fair but didn't care in the least. "And you didn't see him each and every time he received one of your texts about that."

"Like you did," Kurt spat, but he didn't sound as sure and vicious as he might've wanted.

"Didn't I?" Cooper murmured, tilting his head to the side and marveling at the thought that Kurt'd never noticed the laptop sitting on Blaine's bed, turned off for the time of his visit but still there, a potential window opening onto the rest of the world - or, in that case, his brother. "The fact that I didn't jump on a plane didn't mean I wasn't with him the whole time."

( _And I'd be with him all the time if I could_ , he didn't say. _Every second of every day. Hell, I'd shadow him to always keep an eye on him, I'd sit on him and barricade the door to prevent him from going out into that fucked-up world and risking getting hurt. But I won't. I can't live his life in his stead, I can't prevent him from living and breathing and being himself and loving who he wants and getting hurt. I have to leave him some space, a lot of space - too much space - because I'll smother him if I'm not careful_.)

"Yes, because that's enough," Kurt retorted with a sarcastic nod. "Because it's the same as being physically here, because he was doing _so_ well on his own, because there aren't moments you should just ignore what he says and see right through it. He needed you here!"

That one stung, of course, but ended up hurting in a good way, because it showed how much Kurt didn't have a _clue_.

"And that's where you're wrong," Cooper said softly, a smile twisting his lips.

(Because what Blaine had needed the most was to sit and stand back up on his own, not to have his older brother hovering over the bed and worrying and helping him - he'd needed not to need that kind of help. He'd needed things to be different from the last time. He'd needed to feel that he was stronger, could do this on his own.)

"He didn't need to be reminded of the last time he was in the hospital even more than he already was," he went on, wondering what effect this would have.

He saw the flash of recognition in Kurt's eyes and found that he was almost surprised that Blaine had obviously mentioned this to him. But there also was a slight confusion in those irises, a worry that urged Cooper to ask:

"Did he tell how bad it was last time?"

Kurt took in a sharp breath and that was answer enough.

"He never told you, did he? The extent of his injuries."

Cooper shook his head - of course Blaine hadn't told him. It was Blaine - Blaine who hated to show his weaknesses to anyone and considered that night like the time he'd been the most vulnerable, never realizing that he'd also been the strongest for surviving it and waking up. It was already impressive that he'd trusted Kurt enough to tell him that _something_ had happened - but he'd probably shrugged it off almost at once, passed it off as nothing or at least as nothing serious.

Kurt had paled, worry written all over his face, and his voice was small and faint when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer: "How bad was it?"

And Cooper - would probably never manage to even remember the words, the list of injuries and potential aftereffects the doctors had rattled off in that careful, clinical voice of theirs, and even less to repeat them, either in his head or aloud.

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the way they'd suddenly begun to burn, ignoring how strangled he sounded when he forced himself to answer: "He's your age. But a junior in high school. How bad do you think?"

He saw Kurt's lips part and turned his head away, swallowing through the painful knot in his throat. He wasn't going to lose it, not now, and as he tried to regain control over himself he found that spark of anger still sitting warm in the pit of his stomach, always there, and he clutched at it like at a life line. He felt it brighten and settle in his chest, only waiting for a target to lash out on, and when he turned his head back Kurt was just standing _there_.

"And he ended back there," Cooper seethed viciously, making Kurt start at the sudden assault. "Because of you. And even before that you made him go to prom. You made him relive that."

Kurt blinked at him for a second, shaken - but he didn't step back, didn't crumble, on the contrary. His face showed understanding before it settled into a determined expression and he squared his shoulders, his hands gripping the strap of the satchel bag he hadn't put down as if to ground himself.

"I get you point," he said. "But I never asked him to jump in front of me - I'd go back and change it if I could. And prom- Yes, I asked him to go, and I knew it was asking for a lot. But it turned out well in the end," he claimed. "It helped him. It was good for him. _I_ 'm good for him."

(Cooper remembered Blaine's voice over the phone, talking about a first dance and whispering: _He makes me feel brave_.)

"I know I'm not perfect," Kurt went on artlessly. "But I don't care. I don't care what you think."

He took a breath, chin raised high and proud. "I won't break up with him. I _love_ him."

And it was so obvious, in his voice and in his eyes, that he believed that. To him it was just a plain, acknowledged truth: he was in love with Blaine.

It was reassuring, in a way - to see that Blaine was not alone in this. But Cooper had heard such words, had seen such looks, had believed in the firm faith in them - and knew that it never changed anything in the end.

"Boy," he said softly, shaking his head. "I don't think you know what love's about."

( _So stop swinging it around before you hurt yourself and other people with it_.)

"I think you don't know what it's about," Kurt retorted defiantly, almost indignantly.

Cooper let out a laugh that made Kurt shudder. "Don't I?"

He threaded a hand through his hair and saw out of the corner of his eye Kurt's expression turn puzzled, saw his lips part, probably to ask questions Cooper was very adamant he wouldn't answer, no matter what they were or how they were asked.

And fortunately for him he was saved by the bell, or rather by the rumble of a car - Blaine's car - parking in the drive. He'd driven himself to school that morning since Cooper had had to make a phone call to discuss the files he'd brought with him and Cooper suddenly felt incredibly thankful for that. He turned away from Kurt and towards the entrance door as Blaine stepped through it.

"Cooper?" he said upon seeing him. "Is Kurt here? His car's-"

"Ah yes," Cooper heard Kurt say from behind him. The boy squeezed past him into the entryway before he added: "I finished what I had to do a little earlier than I thought and I decided I'd directly come here." He returned Blaine's blinding smile with a small one of his own and Cooper couldn't help but note how easily he skewed the truth to prevent Blaine from questioning anything - and then seamlessly broached another topic as a distraction: "And I was thinking - my dad is taking Finn to see the football match in Columbus on Friday evening. Would you like to come?"

"But you get bored now that you don't need me to explain you the rules anymore," Blaine said, reaching out a hand - it was automatic, Cooper had noticed, when he was in the same room as Kurt. He wouldn't let more than two minutes go by without initiating contact, like he needed to make sure that Kurt was physically here and not an illusion.

He knew that Blaine was a naturally tactile person. Yet he couldn't help but find that with Kurt he was bordering on too handsy.

Kurt took his hand in both of his, readily returning the contact for once.

"Well," he said, tongue looping over the sound. "I still like the scarves."

Blaine laughed and stepped closer - but then turned his head towards the third person in the room.

"Cooper?" he asked, sounding expectant.

Cooper saw Kurt's expression freeze slightly - he'd obviously thought his invitation as an excuse to steal Blaine away for a whole evening and hadn't expected for Blaine to want to drag his brother along.

He obviously didn't know who had introduced Blaine to the realm of football and the greatness that the Buckeyes were. And that it had been far too long since they both had had the occasion to go cheer them on _live_.

He returned Blaine's large, excited smile. "Like you need to ask," he said. Blaine bounced happily on the back of his heels and Kurt tried - and almost managed - not to look too sour about how his plan was turning out.

Cooper decided to cut him some slack. For now.

"Now go on up," he said. "Some people have to work here."

And he turned away before he could see what reaction his attitude elicited.

(It was true. He had work to do.

He wasn't running away. He wasn't making leave the room because he felt like he couldn't deal with their presence right now. He wasn't feeling like he needed to be alone, like he needed some space to breathe after the conversation they'd just had, the way it had taken.

And no, the way Kurt had said that, _I love him_ , so sure and honest, hadn't done anything to mellow him. He just respected the boy's courage in coming all the way here all on his own to confront him. A bit.)

*

Cooper had heard a lot about Kurt's family - especially about Kurt's dad - but he hadn't really thought about it until now.

He probably should have.

It struck him as soon as he rung the bell to the Hudson-Hummel home on Friday evening and was welcomed by a woman - Kurt's stepmother, Carole - who took his coat and began to motherly fuss over him almost at once.

"Well, aren't you a handsome young man too," she said with a warm smile. "They sure know how to make them in your family."

Cooper accepted the compliment with that smile he knew charmed everyone - and didn't mention that it might've been better if their parents had cared as much about the people that were inside the pretty molds as they did about appearances.

Then he was ushered into the living-room where he found Blaine sitting on the couch, facing whom Cooper assumed to be Kurt's dad. He recognized him from the hospital, but he had to admit that the baseball cap, flannel shirt and the car magazine he was leafing through surprised him a little considering what his son was like. The man straightened up to reach out a hand but didn't bother to stand.

"Evening, sir," Cooper said, shaking his hand. "I'm Cooper, Blaine's brother."

The man snorted. "Kind of obvious when you talk like that," he replied. "Call me Burt."

Cooper felt like he was going to like him.

When he straightened he met Blaine's eyes and noticed how he was sitting on the couch - tucked in the corner but entirely at ease, entirely at home. Probably because that place felt more like a home than their house in Westerville ever had or ever would. Look at that, there were actually people living in it. Parents. Who apparently _behaved_ like parents.

"Sit down, boy," Burt said. "You're making me feel itchy."

Cooper obeyed at once, settling beside Blaine on the couch. His brother's face was radiant.

"Aren't we going?" he politely enquired. He'd made sure to show up right on time, like always, but no one seemed to be in any hurry.

"Oh sure, we are," the man answered, eyes never leaving the page he was looking at. "As soon as Kurt finishes dolling himself up." He raised his voice at the end of the sentence - which produced an answering echo from upstairs:

"I'll be down in a minute!"

"Didn't he say that, like, fifteen minutes ago?" Burt asked, glancing at Blaine who was grinning from ear to ear. "Wonder how I could fail at instilling something as basic as time measurement to that kid's brain. But I guess I should've suspected something when he tried to convince me that that _Titanic_ movie wasn't that long."

Cooper was beginning to understand why Blaine had such an expression stuck to his face when looking at Burt Hummel. The man was obviously a good person and dad - but then Cooper remembered he'd seemed ready to let his stepson get _married_ and decided it was better to temper his judgement.

(From what Blaine had told him, the bride and groom had decided to postpone the marriage until their missing bridesmaid was entirely healed, which might take some time. Hopefully enough for them to come to their senses. It was quite terrible that the girl's accident and injuries ended up having some actually good, desirable consequences though.)

"Oh, you shouldn't worry, you're not to blame," he said, his smile never slipping. "Distorted time perception is a common illness among teenagers."

"Well, your kid here doesn't seem to have that problem."

"Always perfectly punctual," Carole added when she entered the room to go and perch herself on the armrest to her husband's right and looking at Blaine fondly.

Blaine ducked his head awkwardly at the compliment.

"Oh, he cheats," Cooper retorted, like his heart wasn't swelling and aching at the same time, because Blaine should be used to receiving such praises from parental figures, with all the efforts he put into behaving like a perfect gentleman. Hell, they both should be. "He has an antidote - our grandfather's pocket watch. Takes it everywhere."

At least it was normal for Blaine's head to be ducked and flushing in embarrassment now.

"It's our own artifact of ancestral power," Cooper concluded.

"You guys talking about _Metroïd_?" a young man asked, entering the room - Finn, Cooper assumed, considering the height. Then he got distracted by the glass the giant teen was holding in his right hand and which was filled with - milk? Really? Wasn't he, like, already tall enough as it was?

"You're not Blaine," he said when his eyes landed on Cooper after he'd taken a sip from his milk, pointing at him.

"Close," Cooper replied. "I'm his brother, Cooper."

"You look nothing alike."

"Finn!" Carole exclaimed from her seat, probably knowing how badly such remarks could be taken sometimes.

Cooper sagely decided not to go for the usual, _Oh, I know,_ I _'m the handsome one_ and settled for the second option. "It's okay," he said, waving Carole's worry away. "We know. He's of Asian descent - and I'm of Polish descent. We only have our biological parents in common. No big deal."

Burt snorted again while Finn blinked. "... Cool?" he said hesitantly, apparently not the sharpest tool in the shed.

(At the same time, he'd attempted to get married not even two weeks earlier, so it shouldn't come as a surprise.)

And then Kurt breezed into the room, gathering everyone's attention.

"I'm ready," he announced. And he was - perfectly groomed, far more than was necessary to go see a football match. Hell, he made Cooper look underdressed in his button-down shirt and slacks.

The whole family didn't bat an eyelash though and stood up to grab their coats like it was such an everyday occurrence at this point that it didn't even warrant teasing. Cooper noticed Blaine's helpless staring, though, and caught him taking advantage of the general distraction to press a hand to Kurt's side and whisper to him:

"You look great."

"Really?" Kurt asked, sounding slightly breathless like he hadn't seen it for himself with all the time he'd probably just spent in front of the mirror.

Blaine hummed. "Kind of makes me feel like a messy slob, though," he added, and damn it Blaine didn't need some dandy who'd make him self-conscious about his appearance on top of everything else.

Kurt clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Don't say that," he scolded. "You look perfect."

He punctuated his words with a peck to Blaine's lips then went about getting ready, turning back towards his boyfriend once he had his coat on to fuss over the way Blaine'd wrapped his scarf around his neck.

It all looked comfortably familiar and almost disturbingly domestic.

*

The game was great.

Sure, it was preceded by quite a long car ride from Lima to Columbus with Cooper at the wheel and Blaine and Kurt having their own quiet, private conversation in the backseat - because insisting for Blaine to sit in the front would've been obvious so Cooper had had to resign himself to the role of chauffeur. But it got all better after that.

It turned out that the Hudson-Hummel had their own way to line up so that everyone could enjoy the game in the best way for them - Burt beside Finn so that they could throw comments at each other and grip each other when the situation became tense, Carole beside Kurt so that they could exchange amused smiles or alarmed look when they simply didn't understand the two men's reaction, Blaine to Kurt's other side like the dutiful boyfriend.

So Cooper quite naturally affixed himself to Blaine's right.

All in all, Kurt and Carole probably spent the whole game feeling like trapped victims never knowing from where the next assault would come.

They all went to a small restaurant afterwards, grinning at their team's victory and from the exhilaration it had been to witness it and take part in it that way. TV really had nothing on the live experience.

"So, Cooper," Burt began over the chicken salad he'd seasoned while Kurt watched like a hawk how much sauce he put in it exactly. "Blaine here told us you were a lawyer."

"A brand new one, sir," Cooper confirmed, neatly cutting through his steak.

"Burt," Kurt's father reminded him, the sound of his voice hinting that it wasn't the first time he'd had to correct an Anderson on that point. "That's pretty impressive."

Cooper shrugged. "Well, you just got elected to Congress," he remarked. "I'd say that's pretty impressive too."

That exchange of pleasantries led them into an invested discussion about the links and separation between legislative and executive powers Cooper wouldn't have expected to have in a dingy restaurant in the middle of Ohio.

They parted ways afterwards, Kurt hugging Blaine goodbye before climbing into his parent's car for the drive back to Lima.

Their own journey was silent, Cooper steering the car smoothly while Blaine leaned back in his seat, tired and sleepy but content.

"Cooper?" he called softly when they drove past the sign welcoming them back in Westerville.

Cooper hummed to show Blaine that he had his attention.

"I know the past weeks - months weren't all that great but..." His voice trailed off for a second before starting again, calm and slightly awed and sure. "I'm really happy right now."

"... I'm glad you are," Cooper whispered back after a while, once he was sure it wouldn't come out too choked up. His throat was still tight, though, suddenly hurting and making his eyes burn.

Blaine being happy was everything he wished for. But he was so scared - not because he doubted that this happiness was founded, not anymore, but because he knew that this kind of happiness was the hardest to lose. And he was so, so afraid that Blaine _would_ lose it, that it wouldn't last (because it never did, did it?).

"I'm really glad you are," he repeated, trying to focus on the present instead. He took Blaine's hand in his and drove.

*

And then, just like that, the two weeks were already up.

"It's kind of stupid you're leaving right when my break begins," Blaine remarked on Sunday while Cooper hoisted his bags up and tucked them into the trunk of his car. It was still early in the afternoon, but the time was still growing lesser and lesser before he really had to go if he wanted to reach New York before the day was through.

Cooper shrugged like he didn't care and snapped the trunk shut. "You won't have to divide your time between me and your boyfriend that way," he said, then titled his head to the side with a smile he hoped didn't look too forced. "Enjoy."

Blaine glanced down with an embarrassed but happy smile at that - probably from hearing the words 'your boyfriend' in his brother's mouth.

Cooper hadn't made them break up in the end - hadn't even tried to. He hadn't come with such a plan anyway. It had been nothing but half-formed, unrealistic fantasies waiting to be entirely snuffed out by reality.

They had been. Because Kurt Hummel was unsurprisingly more complex than the boyfriend which Cooper had pictured had been - for better and for worse. He was determined, he was in love, he was real - and like every single real person he made everything that much more complicated.

But Cooper had something to show for still: Blaine looked better, still tired but better - he _was_ better, standing straight and strong again, less likely to break down at a moment's notice. He'd needed Cooper, and Cooper had come and been there until Blaine regained his footing and became able to walk on on his own once more.

And that was all that mattered in the end.

So Cooper hugged him one last time, tight and affectionate, hugged him like he never intended to let go ever again. But he did, he had to - he stepped back and smiled even though underneath his relief he was still worried, always would be.

He always let go in the end.

*

Kurt Hummel left for New York City in early August, 2012.

He stepped foot back in the city he'd fallen in love with a little more than a year prior - and like he'd promised his boyfriend was right there at his side.

Even if he wasn't meant to stay.

Cooper joined them when they arrived, a noisy, disorganized group of seven people crammed in one car and a rented moving truck. He hugged Blaine, greeted Kurt and Finn and Burt, offered his help for the move and then was forcefully introduced to a small perky girl named Rachel Berry, Kurt's roommate, and her two fathers who were greatly interested to hear that Cooper was a lawyer and had specialized in family law and social changes during his studies.

Unloading the truck took a while, especially since the apartment wasn't furnished apart from the kitchen and bathroom, so that both families had had to gather furnitures they'd kept at the back of their garage or up in the attic in anticipation of such an occasion. Burt, who had operated the truck during the most tricky sections of the drive, was ordered to rest while the others worked and ended up supervising the whole thing from an old armchair they nearly forgot to carry upstairs at the end of the day.

The two following weeks were great - Cooper showed Blaine every little corner of the city he'd discovered on his endless, solitary walks and left it to Kurt to take him to see the most symbolic, impersonal places while he worked. In the evening Blaine would be so tired from walking all day long he'd crash at the kitchen table, unable to do anything more than vaguely encourage Cooper as he cooked. Then they'd eat, do the dishes, watch a little bit of TV and go to bed - Cooper in his room and Blaine in the other bedroom that was only waiting for him to graduate to become his entirely. For two weeks, it felt like it already was.

Except it wasn't.

"One year," Cooper whispered in Blaine's ear as he hugged him goodbye at the airport. "Only one year and then you never have to go back there again."

He felt Blaine nod against his shoulder and held him tighter before he let go, stepping back to allow his brother to turn towards his boyfriend. They fell into each other's arms and Cooper had to look away from Blaine's face over Kurt's shoulders, eyes squeezed tightly shut, from his hands clutching at Kurt's back because he couldn't bear to see him hurting that way. He didn't know what Kurt told him before he let go, only caught the small, painful laugh Blaine gave in answer as they parted.

Kurt, Cooper thought, could've afforded to look a little bit more heartbroken. His hands lingered on Blaine's shoulders and his eyes were bright but his lips had apparently no problem curving into a reassuring smile and his voice was only slightly strained when he said:

"It's going to be alright. It's only one year - less than that. It'll be over before we know it. We'll make it."

Blaine held his gaze and nodded and took a fortifying breath and still didn't say a thing because he knew his voice would break on the first word and he'd follow right after.

Cooper wanted to grab him and say, _To hell with Ohio, I'm keeping you, I'm not letting you go back there alone_.

But he bit his tongue, and didn't move when Blaine lifted his carry-on and turned away, didn't move when he stepped through the gates and turned back one last time to wave, forcing an uncertain smile on his lips. Cooper only glanced at Kurt to see him still smiling encouragingly and waving. He felt a spark of irritation at how easy it looked for him, like it wasn't a big deal while Blaine seemed ready to fall apart at the seams.

He turned his eyes back towards Blaine and watched him as he walked away - and then he was gone.

A second floated past, a second during which nothing felt quite real, like it hadn't really happened - until it all shattered when Cooper heard a sob ring out right beside him.

He turned to Kurt right in time to see him bring a hand to his mouth as his carefully constructed facade crumbled - and the snide remarks he'd been preparing died in his throat as the boy curled in on himself, one shaking hand slapped to his lips, trying to hold it all in, and his other arm braced across his chest and stomach like it physically hurt, like something had just been ripped out of him.

And in a way, it had been.

"Ah, hey," Cooper said, automatically reaching out his hands but not knowing what to _do_ \- he'd never even touched Kurt before, always carefully kept his distance towards him. He settled on awkwardly patting him on the back as the boy began to shake and _bawl_ helplessly. "It's okay, it's-"

Kurt was in such a state he didn't even try to bat Cooper's hand away as the young lawyer steered him towards the nearest seats, making him sit down before he collapsed to the ground all on his own.

"It's okay," he repeated uselessly, even though the sobs wrenching out of the boy betrayed quite clearly that it was _not_ okay. "Just- Stay here, okay? I'll-"

He darted away to the nearest coffee vending machine, trying to ignore the stares the whole scene was garnering, snatching the beverage almost before it'd finished being poured into the small plastic cup. He hurried back towards Kurt and handed him the drink along with a tissue.

"Here," he said, feeling quite stupid - because he didn't know how to deal with people breaking down that way in front of him, people who weren't Blaine and whom he couldn't really curl up against him and crush into a hug that would hold them together until the worst was past.

"Oh, look at that," Kurt snarled between his chokes, cheeks stained with tears under his glare. "You're actually a decent person underneath it all."

He took the cup and the tissue though, and didn't protest when Cooper sat down beside him with a sigh.

He almost felt bad himself for not being more shaken, more emotional because of Blaine's departure. Not that it didn't hurt - it always did. But that was exactly it: it wasn't the first time he'd experienced it, it wouldn't be the last. He'd grown used to that wound tearing itself open and settling into a diffuse throb after a while, and then into a dull, continuous ache he could almost ignore some days but which never quite went away.

Seeing Kurt now, he remembered how it'd felt like the very first time, when he'd left for college and his parents had had to literally hold Blaine back to prevent him from rushing through the gates. He remembered how heavy his feet had felt back then, lead weights stuck to the ground and preventing him from turning away - until a boarding attendant had urged him forward and he'd numbly obeyed.

He could still hear Blaine's wails sometimes, calling him, an echo resonating behind him when he walked.

"That's not coffee," Kurt mumbled then, bringing him out of his thoughts. Cooper had no idea how much time had passed but the boy was calmer now, breath irregular and interspersed with sniffles and small sobs while he dabbed at his cheeks and eyes with the soaked-through tissue.

Cooper handed him another one. "I figured you'd need something a little bit more comforting."

"Industrial hot chocolate is foul and depressing," Kurt retorted, but there was no real fire behind it and he kept sipping at the drink anyway.

Cooper didn't give an answer, only watched the people milling around, going on with their lives. There was a strange atmosphere in airports, that feeling of suspended time and expectation, of things on the brink of beginning or ending - but it seemed like there were more endings than beginnings here and Cooper was starting to hate that too.

"It's just - it sucks," Kurt spoke again beside him, the word bursting out of him and making Cooper raise his eyebrows because he hadn't pegged Kurt for someone who'd use such words, instead favoring far more refined ways of expressing his discontent.

He probably was. But the situation called for it.

"I wanted to leave Ohio for so long," Kurt went on, tearing up again and looking frustrated at himself for it. "But damn it why couldn't he come with me?"

Cooper watched him wipe at his eyes furiously as if it'd stop the tears from coming, then he sighed again, looking down at his feet crossed at the ankles in front of him.

"You know," he said quietly, wearily. "That's a question I've been asking myself for years."

*

He needed a distraction.

He needed a distraction because work wasn't enough anymore apparently, and if he kept thinking about Blaine being alone in Ohio, not only separated from his brother but also from a boyfriend he'd apparently been stuck at the hip with, he'd go crazy with worry and with what might happen, what Blaine might do, what-

( _No, stop it, stop thinking that right now. Blaine's stronger than that, he has other friends in McKinley, he isn't alone - he won't ever do that to you and Kurt, he'll call for help if he feels he can't deal with it all, if he feels that things are spiraling out of his control, he_ will _._

 _He isn't like you._ )

He needed a distraction so he did some research, asked around and finally settled for entering a small theater group that gathered twice a week to perform single scenes and excerpts from various plays.

"Really?" Blaine asked, voice stretched by the smile Cooper could envision on his face. It was disturbing how excited he sounded about that - definitely more than Cooper himself was. "That's great."

"I told them about you already," he replied, and laughed when Blaine spluttered. "What?" he went on amusedly. "I'm just working on you being famous even before you set foot in the city. I have it all planned out. In small steps."

Blaine snorted, apparently not convinced.

"We had to mention something about us," Cooper explained more quietly after a couple of silent seconds. "You're the first thing that came to mind."

It wasn't quite correct actually - when they'd done the personal introduction round the leader of the group had asked them to mention something that was important to them, something they thought defined them and hadn't anything to do with their work. Cooper had been surprised by how difficult it'd been for some people to find something to say. His own answer had been automatic, immediate, obvious, as instinctive and essential to him as breathing.

"My name's Cooper Anderson. I'm a lawyer - well, a brand new one. And I have a little brother, Blaine - he means the world to me."

*

Of course, the year it was absolutely certain Blaine would come to New York for Thanksgiving would be the year the prices would choose to go through the roof.

"Do you think you could ditch glee practice and take an earlier flight?" Cooper asked over the phone one Friday evening while scrolling through the various offers on his screen. They might as well try and make it worth it by lengthening Blaine's stay over the prolonged weekend as much as possible.

He frowned when what he got in answer was nothing but a distracted hum.

"Blaine," he said in an ominous voice. "You're not listening."

He felt Blaine freeze on the other end of the line and knew exactly what his repentant expression looked like when he admitted: "Not really, no."

"What is it?" Cooper asked softly, trying not to sound too worried too fast.

"It's-" Blaine began, then sighed. "Well, it's stupid. I'm worried."

Cooper felt his eyebrows raise. "About what?"

"It's just-" he stopped, then seemed to take a decision: "Cooper, could you... Could you go and check up on Kurt? Just drop in? I'm worried about him."

That wasn't what Cooper had been expecting.

"Why? Did something happen?"

To be honest, he'd been very happy pretending Kurt wasn't living in the same city as he in the past months and had been very careful not to mention him if Blaine didn't. Because he didn't want Blaine to be reminded of the fact that he was missing his boyfriend too. Of course.

(He wasn't trying to pretend the boy didn't exist at all. No sir.)

"I don't think so," Blaine replied slowly. "It's just- Something's off. He says everything is fine but. I know him. He doesn't talk as much and when I try to ask he avoids the question or cuts the conversation short, says he has things to do and hangs up. I-" He stopped, then let out a frustrated sigh. "There is something he's not telling me. I feel like he's not doing so well. I know it. So, please?"

By now Cooper had his lips pressed into a thin line - because he had little to no doubt about what was actually happening, why Kurt was so distant and distracted all at once. And it was exactly as he'd feared. Here Blaine was, stuck back in Ohio, pining and worrying over a boy who was most certainly beginning to forget about him already, discovering new things, meeting new people and letting the city sweep him away little by little. Cooper didn't think such a boy was worth the time or attention Blaine was devoting to him - but Blaine had asked, had asked _that_ way in _that_ voice, so all he could do was sigh and cave in.

"Fine."

That's how he found himself going out on a Friday night after having been home for less than an hour and retracing his steps towards an apartment he hadn't even thought about since the previous summer.

By the time he reached it he'd pieced together a pretty precise picture of what he would find if the apartment wasn't already deserted. He _knew_ what college students were up to on Friday nights. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd crossed path with one Kurt Hummel on the stairs, dressed in sinful leather pants and a clingy, glittery pink shirt or something, ready to go out and have the time of his life with people and boys who weren't Blaine - to whom he wouldn't spare a thought the whole evening, because who cared about him anyway?

(Cooper did. And that wasn't something he'd let Kurt forget so easily.)

He didn't meet anyone as he ascended the stairs to the top floor though, and when he knocked at the door he barely had to wait before a girl trying to put in her large earrings and to brush her hair all at the same time opened it. He recognized Kurt's roommate, Rachel. She took one look at his face and got a vindictive smile on her face.

"Great, an Anderson," she said, voice cuttingly sweet as she ushered him in. "Not quite the right one but maybe it'll do and you'll manage to put some _sense in his head_ ," she went on, voice raising impressively on the last words while she turned pointedly towards one of the closed doors. "Meanwhile I think I've waited enough so if Mister wants to keep up his _pity-party_ -" Her voice raised again to stress the word. "-he can do it on his own because _I_ have a _social life_ to go to."

She whirled around then, throwing Cooper an almost manic smile as she snatched up her bag and put on her shoes. "Have fun," she bit out.

Then she left.

Cooper blinked at the closed front door for a second, wondering what that had been about, before he shuffled forward in the living-room. It looked better than when he'd last seen it, filled with cardboard boxes and ill-placed furnitures. The couch had been pushed diagonally in a corner, a halogen lamp standing right behind it and a coffee table in front. There was also a bookshelf already crammed with books and other documents with the old armchair Cooper remembered from the move sitting right beside it. A table with two chairs was tucked against the half-wall separating the living-room from the tiny kitchen, and a green plant in a pot was standing on the floor right in front of the window, probably to enjoy the sunlight during the day. The wall next to the entrance door was lined with countless pairs of shoes, an overloaded coatrack and another small shelf meant to receive keys, mail and other odds and ends when the apartment's occupants came in.

When he began looking at the wall decorations Cooper realized he was stalling.

With a sigh at himself he stepped up to the door he remembered was Kurt's and knocked.

"For the last time Rachel," a familiar voice snarled. "No, I won't go out and _no_ , I couldn't give a fuck about meeting new people right now so go _away_."

Cooper considered it was the best invitation he would get and opened the door.

He was met by silence.

Well, almost silence. _Teenage Dream_ by Katy Perry was softly playing in the background.

Only Cooper was pretty sure it wasn't Ms. Perry's version - unless he'd been wrong all this time and the singer was actually male.

"You're not Rachel," Kurt said flatly.

He was in his pajamas, lying on his bed and hugging his pillow against his chest. But what struck Cooper the most was the state his hair was in - in short, it was a mess - and the couple of used tissues littering his bedside table beside a cup of tea.

Cooper raised an eyebrow, understanding better what Rachel had meant by 'pity-party' and feeling somewhat amused by such an overdramatic display (and relieved, but he wouldn't admit it, and worried because that scene screamed teenager, and he knew that if teenagers felt things strongly, joy as well as pain, they were also very quick to move on from them and forget them).

"We're going out," he announced before he had the time to think.

Kurt groaned and let his head fall back into his pillow. "Oh no, not you too." Then he glanced back up to glare and spit: "Why would I want to go out with _you_?"

Cooper threw him a stiff grin, ignoring the sting and telling himself he was glad to notice the dislike was mutual.

(After all Kurt would never win any point with Blaine if he let slip that he hated his brother.)

"You're not very subtle you know," he said, crossing his arms. His voice turned more serious and almost accusing when he added: "Blaine's worried about you."

 _And right now he doesn't need to have to worry about you on top of everything else_.

Kurt pursed his lips when he heard that, obviously displeased. Cooper didn't dare hope that it was because he'd tried to pretend that everything was alright when it wasn't and because he was dismayed to see he hadn't managed to fool Blaine. No, he didn't dare hope Kurt could miss Blaine just as much as Blaine did him.

"So here's what we're going to do," he said, leaving no room for argument. "You stand up and get dressed, then we go out and we eat, so that I can say to Blaine that you're alive and that I even got some food into you. And you can tell him that I did what he asked when he asks and that you feel better. We're doing this and we'll both be better men for it and most of all we'll make Blaine happy."

 _Plus it'll give me the time to pry and try to see if you're not stepping out of line already_.

Kurt was still glaring at him - and Cooper saw it in his eyes, saw him contemplate the possibility of a truce. _You leave_ now _and I won't tell if you won't tell_. But then he also saw him realize that it would come down to lying to Blaine and reject the idea at once.

Kurt let out a long, frustrated sigh to show how annoyed he was by this all and grumbled: "Okay."

Cooper kept his arms crossed as Kurt shuffled over to the edge of the bed in order to stand up.

 _Hey, you've just gone up a tiny, tiny notch in my esteem_ , he wanted to say. _You could be a bit more happy about that_.

He stayed silent though, and went to wait for Kurt in the living-room.

*

Dinner was awkward, to say the least.

It tended to be when it took place between two people who'd spent the majority of the time they'd been in each other's company up until now wishing very hard the other would just go away. And it was even worse now that the buffer that was Blaine wasn't here anymore to stand between the two.

Kurt was still glaring, probably embarrassed by the state Cooper had seen him in. Cooper for his part was trying very hard to tell himself this wasn't going to be more difficult than a lunch with that asshole from their rival law firm he'd had to meet several times concerning a case they had in common.

"So," he asked once their orders had arrived and Kurt had begun eating, now pointedly ignoring him. " _Teenage Dream_?"

Like he didn't already know what that was about - like he hadn't recognized the voice singing back in Kurt's room.

(The Warblers had a partnership with a local recording team and always put a selection of their performances of the year on a CD. Cooper wondered how Kurt had gotten his hands on this one since he hadn't been at Dalton anymore come the end of that year.)

He was curious to hear what the boy had to say about it.

He was surprised when Kurt only threw him another half-hearted glare then sighed and confessed:

"It's the song he sung the day we met."

And he actually followed this up with the whole story of that day, words pouring out of him like he couldn't hold them back. It left him smiling almost wistfully.

The smile disappeared though when silence settled back between them, Kurt remembering himself and glancing warily at Cooper, like he was expecting him to make fun of him or belittle the emotions he'd felt. But Cooper didn't - actually couldn't - and only stared thoughtfully at him for a long moment before he opted for meeting Kurt's honesty with a story of his own.

"I remember the first song Blaine sung in an official setting," he began, ignoring Kurt's surprised blink. "It was for our mother's birthday - and he'd gotten the lyrics all wrong..."

*

A week passed, then another, and Cooper was all too happy to go back to things as they'd been before: work, phone calls from and to Blaine, more work and, twice a week, theater group.

But then Blaine got fretful again, and asked again, and Cooper gave in almost at once - again. Kurt was the one to open the door this time and at least he was dressed.

But still looking tired and quite miserable.

"You again?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

Cooper thought he should be grateful that their apartment building didn't have a code nor an intercom - that way Kurt couldn't simply leave him standing outside in the cold autumnal wind.

"Well, you still suck at not making Blaine worry," Cooper retorted a bit more snappishly than was strictly necessary. "So I guess I'm your punishment."

Kurt rolled his eyes but went to get ready anyway.

"I feel like I should be thankful you're so compliant," he pointed out as Kurt closed and locked the door behind him about fifteen minutes later.

"Well, it could be worse," Kurt drawled with a shrug as he walked down the corridor in direction of the stairs. "I could have to spend the evening with the Meerkat or-"

"Meerkat?" Cooper interrupted, eyebrows raised.

Kurt glanced at him - then actually paused, eyes narrowing in thought before he edged:

"Did Blaine ever tell you about Sebastian Smythe?"

Unsurprisingly, that evening went far better than the previous one, if only because they'd found one topic of conversation they viciously agreed upon.

*

("Why didn't you say anything?" Kurt asked towards the end of the night, his expression having turned thoughtful now that he'd had the occasion to inventively and profusely spew his bile. "If you still think so ill of him. I asked Blaine - I remember, I asked what you had to say about him forgiving what he'd done so easily. And he said, 'Nothing'." He paused for a second. " _That_ wasn't nothing."

Cooper looked at him, pondering what to answer. But he'd found that honesty seemed to be what worked best with that boy - so he settled for that.

"I'm the older brother," he murmured, glancing down at the content of the glass he was holding in his hand. "Not the forbidding father, not the advisory friend."

 _Not the fussing boyfriend_ , he didn't add.

He downed what was left of his red wine.

After a while, Kurt nodded like he understood.)

*

No one was more surprised than him the following week when he received a text from an unknown number which turned out to be the Kurt's.

 _Hey. Got your number from Blaine, it read. Saw that Italian place not far from the subway. 8pm tomorrow? - Kurt_.

He frowned at the screen for a second, then opened up a new message to send not to Kurt but to his brother.

_Blaine, are you trying to set me up with your boyfriend?_

And then, because he wanted to be sure Blaine took it for the teasing it wasn't quite: _You're aware of how that sounds, right?_

Blaine's answer came in a series of texts that left Cooper's phone buzzing.

_I know._

_It's just- he used to have family dinners on friday with his dad and then the whole family._

_I don't want him to feel too homesick is all._

_Please Coop?_

Cooper bit his lips, remembering how he himself had felt during the first months in Boston - and he hadn't had a family like Kurt's to miss. Just his brother.

 _Plus it's not like you hate each other, right?_ Blaine sent then, like an afterthought.

Cooper winced slightly and typed back: _Don't try the puppy dog's eyes on me they won't work I can't see them_.

The expected answer wasn't long to come: _*Puppy dog's eyes*_

Cooper snorted at his brother's predictability. _Traitor_ , he sent. And then: _Fine_.

He ignored the smiley Blaine replied with and answered to Kurt's text after he'd entered the number in his contact list.

_8:30. Can't earlier, I have to come all the way from the theatre. -C_

His phone buzzed one last time.

_Okay. See you then. -K_

He'd unwittingly found them a topic of conversation to start the evening though.

And like that the habit was born.

*

Thing was, Cooper realized quite quickly, he could come to like Kurt.

That evening spent bad-mouthing Sebastian Smythe in the most satisfying ways hadn't even been his first clue.

Kurt _was_ a good kid - he was witty and quirky and kind of sweet underneath it all, and Cooper understood why Blaine could've been so charmed by him.

Plus it was nice to be with someone who could understand when Cooper talked at length about Blaine and, even better, who would really listen. It helped that Blaine was actually one of the only things they had in common (apart from a deep loathing for a certain individual) and that they both found that talking about him made missing him easier.

Yes, once he'd gotten over his petty and doubtlessly excessive jealousy due to how important Kurt had rapidly become to Blaine, once he'd let himself enjoy the boy's presence, he found that their evenings could be quite pleasant. He could almost come to look forward to them.

He could like Kurt as an individual. As an acquaintance.

But he still couldn't like him as Blaine's boyfriend. He couldn't trust him with Blaine. Especially not after what had happened the previous year. And even without that he wouldn't trust him.

Because he wouldn't trust _anyone_ with Blaine.

He was beginning to wish that he could, though.

*

"There's something I don't get," Kurt said one evening, expertly picking up a sushi with his chopsticks to dip it into the soya sauce. "Why're you so suspicious of the people around Blaine? Don't you trust him to choose the right person for himself?"

Cooper was still wondering if their choice to be open and bluntly honest about everything had been a good idea. Especially when Kurt went back over things he'd let slip and hoped he'd forget.

"Well, like you might've noticed even before you two started dating-" Cooper began slowly - Kurt caught the jibe thrown in his direction but didn't take the bait, not even bothering to throw him more than a withering glance as he chewed on his rice and raw fish. "Blaine's not always the most clairvoyant when it comes to whom he chooses to be interested in. And he's not very good at romance."

Kurt snorted. "How strange," he sneered. "I heard him say the exactly the same thing once." He prodded at the thin stripes of marinated ginger gathered at the corner of his plate and muttered: " _I_ find he does more than well."

Of course he did. Kurt might be the only boy in the world who'd actually like how over-the-top Blaine could go. Now that Cooper knew him better and had heard about a certain amount of the moments that had brought them together from Kurt's point of view he was beginning to see that they really were quite well-suited for each other.

"But still," Kurt went on. "It's like - it's illogic. Do you think he is that much unlovable?"

"Oh no, I think he gets pretty enough love as it is - I know how easy he is to like _and_ love." Cooper shook his head, fingers fiddling with the wooden stick of one of his brochettes. "It's not about loving him. It's about loving him enough. Loving him always. Loving him _right_." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible when he added: "I don't trust anyone to do that."

"No one but yourself?" Kurt asked, one eyebrow raised.

Cooper laughed. "Hell, no. I most certainly don't treat him like he deserves. I fail quite spectacularly at it actually."

Kurt pursed his lips, probably caught off-guard by that answer, then picked up another sushi he chewed on thoroughly and swallowed. "You have a pretty negative vision of the whole human specie," he pointed out.

Cooper took a sip of his jasmine tea. "It still has to prove its worth to me."

"It won't ever succeed if you start from such a biased point of view," Kurt objected, frowning. "If you don't take a leap and trust someone for once-"

"I entrusted Blaine to the Warblers," Cooper interrupted, voice soft but firm and brooking no further argument. "It seemed like there couldn't be a better choice at the time."

And that shut Kurt right up.

Afterwards Cooper guessed he could feel grateful that he'd let the topic drop - that he hadn't tried to bring the conversation back towards himself, towards the issue of Cooper trusting him, that he hadn't said, _What they did, I'd never do that_.

Because Cooper was pretty sure that every single Warbler would've sworn the exact same thing not even one year earlier.

*

Cooper wasn't really surprised to see Kurt at the airport when he went to fetch Blaine on Thanksgiving. He was the first to catch sight of him though and therefore the first to reach him and hug him - and to keep hugging him. He could feel Kurt's frustrated impatience growing beside him, but who cared about him? Cooper's little brother was back, looking worse for wear but laughing as Cooper rocked him wildly from side to side, almost making them stumble, everything else could go to hell for all he cared.

 _Blaine_ did care about Kurt though, and about the fact that his boyfriend had bothered to come all the way to welcome him even though it wasn't necessary. So Cooper stepped back in the end and let them have their little reunion.

He decided to take the kiss Kurt planted on Blaine's lips then proceeded to deepen as a 'fuck you' not directed at himself but at the narrow-minded tourists arriving in New York and throwing them shocked and indignant looks - when they weren't watching with morbid fascination like it was yet another tourist attraction of the Big Apple. A mother slapped her hand in front of her daughter's eyes and glared at them but the withering look Cooper threw in her direction had her leaving before his brother and Kurt could notice.

Not that they would've noticed anything even once they'd parted, both looking a little bit rumpled and dazed.

"Hi," Blaine choked, a wide smile stretching his cheeks.

"Hi," Kurt whispered back, a slight blush coloring his face as he stared deep into Blaine's eyes, barely taking the time to blink.

Cooper managed to send Kurt back to his apartment and bring Blaine home in the end, but there was no helping it. Yes, Blaine was happy to see his brother again but he was _ecstatic_ to get to spend time with his boyfriend, no matter how short his stay was going to be. It was obvious he wanted to make the most of it and that there wouldn't be much exclusive Cooper and Blaine time in consequence.

So Cooper forced himself not to mind and to accommodate. He didn't force Blaine into any alone time with him and let him bring Kurt along on Thursday when they went out. When he came home from work and theatre on Friday evening - he couldn't afford to take the day off - to find Kurt cooking dinner with Blaine in his kitchen he pretended not to notice that both their hair was still shower damp and that they had that relaxed, languorous ease in their movements, softly brushing against each other and exchanging small smiles and glances without really realizing how obvious they were.

He let Kurt sleep over because there was no use pretending and let Kurt whisk Blaine away on Saturday to show him all the small places he'd discovered on his own since the beginning of the year and wanted to share with his boyfriend. They were back for dinner and Blaine wolfed down his food, beaming and chattering happily while Kurt simply listened and it couldn't have felt more perfect.

And Cooper suspected it wouldn't have been if there had been no boyfriend at his brother's side.

After dinner Blaine took out the DVD he'd brought and on which that year's school production had been recorded - _Singing in the Rain_ , with Blaine as an enthusiastic Cosmo Brown and a girl named Sugar Motta playing a disturbingly good Lina Lamont.

("Not _Wicked_ ," Kurt breathed in relief, because apparently the teacher in charge of the selection for the musical had hesitated at first. "Oh, heads would've rolled if they'd dared to do _Wicked_ the year after I left.")

They plopped down on the couch, Cooper on the right with one arm thrown over the backrest and Blaine automatically leaning against him, a reflex born from years of watching movies together in the evening. Kurt looked a bit miffed at that, especially when he noticed Cooper delighted, bordering on smug expression, before he shrugged it off and curled in on Blaine's other side, resting his head on his shoulder and lacing their hands together.

Cooper felt it, the added weight of him pressing at his side, but Blaine only sighed happily so he couldn't complain.

They watched the musical, softly humming along the songs, and when it ended they didn't feel like letting go of their little bubble quite just yet - so they carried on with the previous year's show, _West Side Story_ , which Cooper actually hadn't seen yet.

Blaine fell asleep before _Tonight_ was through, letting out a soft snore that almost sounded like a content purr.

Cooper glanced down at him, at the fatigue he'd noticed on his features when he'd arrived and which revealed itself more clearly now that his face had relaxed. Moving slowly so as not to jostle him, he reached out for the remote control and progressively lowered the sound of the TV until it turned mute, one level at a time so that the next lively song couldn't wake Blaine up but so that he wouldn't start awake at the sudden disappearance of all sound either.

Kurt didn't move or made any remark. He'd probably heard and felt Blaine's breath deepening since he was more or less plastered against him.

"Great choreography," Cooper commented after a while, his voice so low it almost cracked.

Hurt hummed in answer, soft and smiling.

"He's good, isn't he?" Cooper added as Tony and Maria sung what was probably _One Hand, One Heart_ , looking deep into each other's eyes. He remembered a time when Blaine getting that role had been questioned and wondered what Kurt had to say about it now.

"He's perfect," Kurt sighed fondly, with no hint of resentment or even wistfulness whatsoever.

They grew silent after that and Blaine slept on, blanketed between his brother and boyfriend like it was the safest place in the world.

*

The theatre group met on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Once the session was over the members didn't part ways though - they'd taken up the habit of going out for a drink afterwards. On Tuesday many people declined most of the time, because there was work (and, for Cooper, a phone call to make or take) and they didn't mind the jokes from the ones staying about it being 'a school night, kids'. On Friday though - on Friday Cooper was pretty sure he was the only one who'd never followed the group to the bar.

There was a girl in the group - a young woman named Judith, Jude for short, with curly red hair messily falling on her shoulders, the pale skin that went with it and dark, dark eyes, a young woman Cooper had smiled at on the first day because she'd introduced herself as a school teacher and had compared the stage with the platform in old classrooms, which had reminded him of Blaine.

She'd smiled back.

She always came up to him on Fridays and offered for him to come with them for a drink, no matter how many times Cooper had turned it down.

"I can't," he replied that one time before thinking, because he was late and knew how insufferable Kurt could become if left waiting for too long. "I kind of have a date."

He saw her smile freeze and dim at once, but she didn't hold him back and nothing about that scene really registered until he was gone and in the subway.

Still, she came to him the next week too, although looking more hesitant, more ready to step back.

"I suppose you're not coming with us tonight either," she said instead of her usual offer.

"No indeed," Cooper said, shaking his head, an awkward smile tugging at his lips. "Friday night dinners. It's kind of a tradition of ours."

She barely caught her smile before it slipped and nodded, wishing him a good night. He watched her turn away, knowing what she'd assumed last week and what she'd thought was to understand this time - and what her conclusions were.

(There was a huge difference between one single date and an obvious habit shared between two people.)

"Hey, Jude," he called, not really knowing what he was doing because this wouldn't ever lead anywhere. But as much as his profession encouraged it he found that he hated lies, hated dashing someone's hopes for no reason at all - or not for the right ones. She turned back towards him, curious and carefully not hopeful. "His name's Kurt."

"His...?" The pronoun slipped between her lips and she looked, for a second, _hurt_.

"He's my brother's boyfriend," Cooper went on, finding it hard to hold her gaze but refusing to let his eyes drop to the ground. "Blaine - he's in Ohio until he finishes high school so - we just meet up once a week and miss him very hard together." The smile came, automatic and embarrassed and placating. "It's kind of stupid, I know."

"No, no, it's not stupid," she replied at once, shaking her head, her hands nervous on the pearls of her scarf. "It's - beautiful."

Her _smile_ was beautiful, reaching deep into her eyes.

Cooper returned it falteringly, then turned away and fled.

*

He flew back early on Christmas, before the holidays had begun for college and high school students - if his time with Blaine was going to be cut short once more because Kurt was coming too, then he'd use the privileges adulthood and a stable job gave him to choose the dates of his leave and be there first.

They had a Christmas dinner with their parents, that one evening in the year on which they all sat down around a table and caught up with one another's life. It was formal and slightly stilted as always, but the presents that came with it were surprisingly heartfelt for once.  
Instead of cufflinks or another tie his parents had gotten him a picture book from a photograph they'd remembered he liked and a couple of films for the analog camera he'd inherited from his grandfather but hadn't used since college. Blaine for his part presented him with a blank picture book in which he'd written a foreword stating Cooper didn't have any excuse not to fill it since he lived in a city as photogenic as New York.

Cooper used to take a lot of pictures before law school had come and made him give up on more or less every leisure activities he'd had.

Now he felt like his family was trying to convey a message.

He offered Blaine plane tickets for spring and the free use of his credit car if he wished to take Kurt out to dinner in a fancy restaurant for they two years anniversary.

Blaine spent New Years Eve at the Hudson-Hummel household and was adamant on dragging Cooper along. Since Cooper hadn't any other plans he didn't put up much of a fight and followed.

So he stood in the doorway to the living-room, leaning against the doorjamb with a glass of champagne in hand while Finn and Carole laughed over memories and highlights of the past year and Blaine and Kurt waltzed around the room, cheeks flushed and hands joined, swinging tipsily as they sang _Baby It's Cold Outside_. There was a story there, sparkling in their eyes as Blaine squeezed Kurt a little bit tighter and made him bend backwards by leaning against his chest on 'mind if I move in closer?'.

Kurt very obviously didn't mind as they lost themselves in their very own shared little world.

"I really wanted to hate your kid at first, you know."

Cooper blinked away from his thoughts and glanced at Burt who was standing beside him, watching his son and Blaine dance and stumble around the room.

"Kid barges into my son's life, turns it upside down and suddenly all I hear is about Blaine this or Blaine that," the man went on with a vague gesture of the hand. "And the first actual conversation I had with him was when he asked _me_ to tell _my kid_ about sex."

Cooper almost choked on his champagne then smirked as the memory of Blaine over the phone came back to him, Blaine worried and saying, _I have to do something about this_ \- because he remembered his own experience on that matter, remembered how internet had led him to see and learn things he hadn't been entirely ready for. It wasn't the worst way it could've happened, especially not after he'd gone to Cooper to help him sort out that pile of so-called information, but it hadn't been the best either and even then he'd cared about Kurt enough to only wish the best for him.

Cooper also remembered Blaine a couple of days later, sounding crazed over the phone, incredulous and terrified as he said, _I went to see his dad to... to talk about it_. Everything in his voice had been screaming, _Oh my God, what have I done?_

Burt sighed at his own memory of that encounter. "He's a good kid though. That's something no one could ignore once they've been in the same room as him for more than five minutes." He paused for a second, glancing at Cooper before he gruffly added: "I gather you're the main person to thank for that. You did a good job."

 _No I didn't_ , Cooper wanted to protest at once. _I was never there when he most needed it, never said or did the right things at the right time. What he is now? He did that all on his own_. But he refrained, because he felt that Burt Hummel was not a man who bore to be contradicted.

" _You_ did a great job," was all he said in the end. Because no kid raised by Burt Hummel would ever turn out bad, he thought as Blaine and Kurt collapsed onto the couch after concluding the song with a twirl that went out of control, laughing and smiling helplessly.

Too bad all the best intentions and qualities in the world weren't enough sometimes. Most of the time.

"It doesn't make letting go any easier, does it?" Burt murmured after a while and Cooper had to drown his bittersweet smile in another sip of champagne.

He wasn't surprised the man got it so well.

He _was_ surprised by what Burt said after a long silence though, still looking at Kurt and Blaine who remained sprawled over the couch, staring at their joined hands and bumping their knees together from time to time as they whispered half-formed sentences at each other.

"We love to have Blaine here - he never imposes." Cooper glanced at Burt and saw his earnest gaze. "He can come here as often as he wants, no matter when. We told him but - make sure he _knows_ that, okay?"

Cooper swallowed around a suddenly tight throat and nodded, grateful when Burt simply patted him on the arm and left his side to join his wife. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, trying to push back the dread trembling at the pit of his stomach - because right here, right now, Blaine was dizzily happy, surrounded by people who knew him and accepted him and appreciated him, loved him exactly for who he was.

And it only meant that if things ever went wrong with Kurt he wouldn't only lose a boyfriend and dreams for the future, no. He'd lose so much more - he'd lose a family and a home he'd never thought he'd find.

Cooper couldn't let that happen.

*

His view had shifted, he noticed then.

He hadn't been okay with Kurt at first, at all, for reasons that were both right and wrong - and more wrong than right sometimes. But now that he'd repeatedly seen him and Blaine together, witnessed how they looked at each other and just seemed to click - now that he knew Kurt better and had heard him, seen him talk to Blaine and about Blaine, well. He couldn't deny that there was something there, something beautiful and solid and precious, something that went far beyond him, far beyond Blaine and Kurt even.

It'd be two years soon. Surely they could - would? - go on the way they had until now, right?  
And the best Cooper could do now was to watch over it and try to make sure it didn't weaken, didn't break.

Not that he could do much - even at the beginning, when his intentions had been pretty much the opposite of what they were now, he'd been more or less powerless. But he tried - he opened up more when he met Kurt for dinner on Fridays, shared as many stories of his and Blaine's childhood as he could, reminded Kurt of just how incredible Blaine was, of how lucky he was to have him as his boyfriend.

What mattered most though was that Kurt actually listened to everything he had to say, and agreed, and asked for more, and missed Blaine, and laughed when he gave his point of view to a story Cooper had just told, working out the small, harmless misunderstandings he wanted to be aware of so as to avoid them in the future.

Yes, all in all, Kurt made Cooper's new mission very easy.

*

(But there was also this now: when Cooper heard Blaine talk about the future, about the plans he had for college and New York and beyond, there was a hopefulness and a confidence in him which Cooper wasn't sure he would've gained had he remained on his own, safe but isolated in the halls of Dalton. There was a hopefulness and a confidence with which he stood up to their parents, confronted them and imposed his will even though his projects didn't match what their father had wanted for him. There was a hopefulness and a confidence that spoke of self-growth and budding strength.

There was a hopefulness and a confidence that made Cooper think sometimes that no matter what happened in the future, no matter how terrible that future could be, it would've been worth it.)

*

They had an extra dinner on Valentine's Day, which fell on a Thursday.

It wasn't planned, actually. Cooper wasn't even aware of the date until he caught the maudlin tone of Blaine's texts in the morning and it took him until noon to realize what had caused it.

He called Kurt out of sheer curiosity.

"I _hate_ Valentine's Day," the boy wailed, because his past experiences of that day weren't that great, from what Cooper had gathered. "It just- It sucks, it just _sucks_. Simple, lamentable excuse for rampant consumerism and tacky, flagrant flaunting of an obvious lack of taste, I can't _bear_ to imagine what the people that create those things are _thinking_ -"

By then Cooper was finding it quite hard not to laugh.

Still, he wasn't going to let Kurt infect Blaine with his negative opinion on what he was pretty sure still was his brother's favorite holiday just because both happened to be in separate states on that day. So he kidnapped Kurt, plopped him down on one of his kitchen chairs, turned his laptop on in front of him and had him call Blaine via Skype while he set about to bake heart-shaped shortbread cookies.

It was a good thing Kurt was here, he found out later. The attempt would've ended in quite the tragedy if the boy hadn't noticed Cooper was mistaking the pack of salt for the sugar.

*

"So, how is your brother doing?" Jude asked that evening instead of her usual offer to join them.

Cooper was caught off-guard by the change, actually, and didn't know how to react at first. "Fine," he finally said, with none of the finesse that came to him so naturally at work or on stage. "A little bit nervous now that he's sent out all of his applications and has to wait for the answers."

"New York?"

It wasn't really a question, the tone slightly teasing for how obvious the answer was. Cooper nodded. "Mostly."

After a couple of seconds Jude probably realized he wasn't going to say anything else on his own.

"And the boyfriend," she spoke again. "How is he holding up?"

"Well," Cooper answered, checking the pockets of his jacket to make sure nothing had slipped out when he'd taken it off earlier. "He misses him. Which is exactly as it should be, really."

Jude let out an amused huff, then her expression turned more serious when she quietly asked: "And you?"

Cooper paused, then tilted his head to the side. "Half the year is already past. How do you think?"

She pursed her lips and hummed, looking dissatisfied with that answer for some reason. Cooper didn't leave her the time to press the matter and used the excuse of being already late to bid his goodbyes and beat a hasty retreat.

She was waiting. She'd made her interest in him known in that tactful way of hers, and now she was waiting for him to make the first step.

He didn't know how to make her understand that he wouldn't.

He couldn't.

*

"Blaine worries about you too you know," Kurt said one Friday evening while he was scooping up some hummus with the piece of pita bread cupped between his fingers.

Cooper glanced up at him as Kurt very pointedly focused on his task, recognizing the attitude the boy took on when he was about to broach a subject he judged delicate but refused to back away from.

"I thought it was cute. Blaine, worrying about his big brother alone in the big city."

Cooper frowned at the use of the past tense, at the hint that Kurt had thought about it since then, at the direction he felt the conversation was heading in.

"I know I'm one to talk," Kurt went on, noticing Cooper's expression and misinterpreting it - for real or on purpose for the sake of his line of thought, Cooper didn't know. "He worries about me too - and with reason. I mean, here I am, spending yet another Friday night missing my boyfriend with my boyfriend's brother when I could actually be out with friends. And I don't mind," he remarked, bluntly honest. "I don't _want_ to go out with friends. But-" And there he put down his bread and raised his pale, piercing eyes towards Cooper. "Apparently, you don't either."

Cooper almost froze but shook himself right on time, swallowing his mouthful and bringing his attention back to the food he was eating.

He knew he wasn't fooling anyone, which was confirmed when Kurt determinedly pressed on:

"You never told me you couldn't come because some friends or colleagues or these people at the theatre group had invited you for a drink. You never cancelled on me because you had a date, with your girlfriend or with anyone."

Cooper glanced up from his plate with his eyebrows raised in a silent, _And?_ Kurt only narrowed his eyes, refusing to let him play the nonchalant, evasive game.

"And it's not only on Friday. Blaine and I _still_ talk you know," he said, stressing the word in reference to their first confrontation almost a year before. "And I would've to be deaf not to notice that I'm not the only one he has a long evening chat with next to every day."

He stopped talking then, waiting to see if Cooper would reply to that - he didn't look surprised when Cooper remained silent though.

"There is a reason why you're so happy at the prospect he'll come here," Kurt murmured, crossing his arms, all thought of eating abandoned in favor of plowing forth. "You know, I used to think he didn't care where he went for college - LA, New York, Chicago, Boston, anything, as long as it wasn't Ohio. And yes, I used to think he'd settled for New York for me, because I was coming here." He tilted his head to the side, a contemplative look on his face as he went on: "But he would've come here anyway, wouldn't he? He would've come here for you. Because without him you're all alone, you only have your job and not much else."

Cooper threw Kurt a hard, icy glance that had made seasoned lawyers wince. Kurt didn't even falter.

"I don't get it," he said flatly. "I mean, you're smart, you can be funny, you're nice when you decide not to behave like an asshole, you're handsome."

(Cooper was momentarily torn between being flattered by the compliment and wanting to glare disapprovingly because what the hell, Kurt was dating Blaine - he shouldn't even _notice_ other people's face, and if he bothered to look the whole world should appear nothing but ugly.)

"You should be drowning in friends and love interests and invitations for an evening out like Blaine is. Yet you aren't." He paused for a long moment before he asked, very quietly but very directly: "Why?"

Cooper felt a crooked smile tug at the corner of his lips. "I really don't see why I should answer that question."

He got the feeling Kurt had to refrain from rolling his eyes in frustration.

"I asked Blaine, you know," he stated. "I asked him what could've happened for things to be that way. He didn't answer. He _refused_ to answer." He pursed his lips, eyes refusing to let Cooper's go. "And I find that pretty telling all on its own."

"It only tells me I should be thankful to Blaine for respecting my privacy given it's none of your business," Cooper said, aiming for a firm and calm tone, but his voice came out tighter than he intended.

Kurt noticed, of course, a victorious spark shooting through his eyes now he thought he was going somewhere. "What is it?" he asked, trying to press his advantage. "What happened?"

Cooper looked at him straight in the eye for a couple of second, then pointedly dropped his eyes back to his plate and resumed eating without a word.

"So what, it's only a one way street here?" Kurt hissed after a while, seeing that nothing else was coming.

Cooper focused on finishing his dinner.

He wasn't Blaine. He wouldn't storm out of a room to avoid confrontation - in that respect he was more similar to their father, who walled himself up in silence, leaving no access to what he was thinking or feeling to anyone. Most people rapidly caved and gave up on trying to pry in front of such a blind fortress.

But most people weren't as stubborn as Kurt Hummel. Fortunately the boy had the presence of mind not to cause a scene in the restaurant and settled for fixing Cooper with a withering stare, leaving the rest of his plate untouched.

Cooper ignored him until he'd finished his own meal. He signaled the waiter for the bill, paid for the both of them and stood up from his seat, gathering his briefcase and jacket. Still glaring at him, Kurt did the same and followed him out of the restaurant where he opened his mouth, ready to start the assault again. Cooper beat him to it though by sharply turning his head in his direction and saying:

"Good _night_ , Kurt."

He didn't know what Kurt heard in his voice or saw on his face, but the boy froze with his lips parted and didn't try to stop him when he turned away and left.

Cooper walked home and spent the whole way counting his steps and focusing on the simple act of breathing.

*

**From:** Cooper  
 **To:** Kurt  
 _Let's just say, there is a reason why I don't trust other people with Blaine's heart_.

 **From:** Cooper  
 **To:** Kurt  
 _But... I'm glad he's got you loving him back. At least for now._

 **From:** Cooper  
 **To:** Kurt  
 _Giovanni's at 8:30?_

 **From:** Kurt  
 **To:** Cooper  
 _Okay._

*

Kurt didn't bring up the issue again, didn't even try to tell Cooper he should talk to someone about it.

Cooper was incredibly grateful for it.

He wondered if it was Blaine or Kurt he had to thank for that.

Instead they started talking about spring break and the plans Kurt was making for his and Blaine's two years anniversary.

Cooper had to admit, he was impressed.

The only change he asked for was for Kurt to let Blaine take him out to dinner at least once, because he knew Blaine wouldn't want to pass on a romantic tête-à-tête. But on the whole, he approved. He was almost looking forward to seeing Blaine enjoying what his boyfriend had prepared, actually.

"Do you think you might begin to trust me with him now?" Kurt asked teasingly, reveling in the praise Cooper had grudgingly given.

"You know what?" he replied, making what was left of his wine swirl in his glass. "I just might one day."

*

**From:** Cooper  
 **To:** Kurt  
 _Blaine won't let me ditch theatre club to fetch him at the airport on time. Can I trust you to be there when he lands?_

 **From:** Kurt  
 **To:** Cooper  
 _I wonder what makes that message so disturbing. Oh, wait. I know. Does Blaine actually call you every night to make sure you do your homework properly too?_

 **From:** Kurt  
 **To:** Cooper  
 _Don't worry. I'll be there._

*

With the combination of Blaine's late flight and a surprisingly flowing traffic, Cooper actually arrived almost on time.

His phone buzzed when he finally found a spot to park his car.

 _I've got him_ , it read. _Going to the Starbucks on the lower level to wait. -K_

Cooper bit his lip as he looked at his screen then glanced up at the large building looming over him. After a while he rolled his eyes and, with a sigh followed by a smile he dropped his phone back down on the passenger seat. Then he settled himself a little bit more comfortably on his seat to wait.

Fifteen minutes, tops.

He'd just leave them to their reunion for a little while longer.

*

In the end, Cooper found out, accepting things the way they were didn't mean waiting for them to work out, or for them to be easy.

It just meant for him to let go and be here like he always had been, though the good and the bad, to keep a watchful eye and help when he could - the only difference being that he wasn't here just for Blaine anymore, but also for what Blaine had with Kurt.

And perhaps a little bit for Kurt himself too.

And maybe what Blaine and Kurt had wasn't going to work.

Maybe it was going to break - Blaine and Kurt would grow apart until something tore and fell in tatters to the ground.

Maybe it was going to disappear - Blaine and Kurt would outgrow each other and part amicably, perhaps remain friends as they went on with their life.

Or maybe it _was_ going to work - Blaine and Kurt would keep on growing alongside each other and build something together that would be bigger than what they would manage all on their own.

But no matter what, Cooper would be here.

He'd be here at the end of the year, driving the car full of Blaine's belongings while Blaine and Kurt sang on the backseat all the way to New York.

He'd be here when Blaine started at college and both he and Kurt had to adjust to being so close once more but with different schedules, different friends.

He'd be here as they took the city by storm, making up for all the evenings Kurt hadn't spent out on his first year, but never letting go of their Friday tradition - and Cooper would join them sometimes, sometimes not, because he might gather his courage and go for a drink with other people, or pretend to finally get it and ask Jude out.

He'd be here for the first fights, the first doubts and insecurities, and he might even surprise himself by taking Kurt's side once or twice because even Blaine could be stupid and stubborn and petty and harsh at times.

And he'd be here when the fights resolved themselves, or when they didn't, when Blaine and Kurt held on or let go; no matter what, he'd be here.

*

(Maybe what Blaine and Kurt have will never break.

Maybe Cooper will have to let Blaine go once more, one last time, let him move out from their shared flat and into the one he'd found with Kurt after a couple of years.

Maybe he'll finally allow himself to burst out laughing when Blaine'll call him to tell him Kurt proposed, because the both of them have been approaching him for months, one for his blessing and the other for advice, and he was down to betting on who would get there first.

Maybe he'll get to be the uncle to their kids, a series of mini Blaines and Kurts he'll get to spoil and goof around with and be overprotective of.

Maybe he'll look at them one day and get to see a whole family there, his family.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.)

*

Cooper used to be quietly terrified of the day Blaine would fall in love.

He isn't anymore.

 

*

 

_End_


End file.
